


The Hierophant and The Fool

by Moons_Mate



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cannibalism, Creepy Hannibal, Drugging, Extremely Slow Burn, Insomnia, M/M, Manipulation, Mysticism, Sleep Walking, Stalking, Tarot, Will is very tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_Mate/pseuds/Moons_Mate
Summary: Will Graham is having trouble with sleeping. Frankly, he can't, not without night terrors that make him regret closing his eyes. Hannibal claims that he can help him.Sleep deprivation, Serial killers, Stalkers and hidden enemies terrorize him constantly.When all he truly wants is a good night's rest.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 79





	1. Une propagation de mystère

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Hannibal has been resting in my head for far too long and this is a good medium to let it all out. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

Will Graham stood off awkwardly beyond the bright lights, allowing his presence to bleed into the shadows of the darkened corners. He reached up to adjust the too-tight collar on his ill-fitting tuxedo that once belonged to his father but stopped and let his hand drop instead, rubbing away absently at his tightly coiled stomach. He did not do well at social functions. Especially ones that carried the scent of the rich and privileged. He was woefully aware of how out of place he was and if any one of these smug pretentious assholes bothered to give a closer look to his patchy beard and hand me down tuxedo, they'd realize it too. His only saving grace was that this was a masquerade, almost everyone had a mask on their face of varying degrees of coverage and decoration.

_God, what am I even doing here?_ He thought to himself as he sweated lightly beneath the huge gilded chandeliers that hung enormous metal suns from the arched ceilings of the opera house. He knew how he got there, dragged along by one of his friends _-(the only one)-_ who he graduated with. He lived a very posh life as the son of the governor, but had the social capabilities of a gnat that had long since been smacked into the dirt. Just like will. Two omega's who couldn't socialize the way nature wrote into their DNA. Hence why he basically forced will to attend this wildly ostentatious social event. Like all the _other_ events. 

“It will be good for you Will, you might finally get an _Alpha_ and lose your virginity. Or maybe _I_ will.” he almost spat into Will's face with the force of his reckless and messy eating of a fucking calzone of all things. Will sighed into his cackling face. Later on, he called it his graduation gift to Will which made more sense but didn't make him any happier about it. Will got him a fishing pole so they were matching with the unwanted gifts as usual.

Will objected vehemently on the night of the event out of desperate unwillingness to be put into social spaces but Chandler was a force of nature that had never been refused anything in his life. It didn't hurt the idiots changes that Will did feel genuine affection for his friend. 

So Will stood alone, near one of the exits, with a headache that thrummed in time with the strings of the harp that were being plucked loudly and unpleasantly - in his opinion- on stage. He dragged his tired, bloodshot eyes around the room, slitted beneath the wide eyes of his fairly simple, pale ceramic lamb mask-( _"It suits you will, in a cute, tousled and innocent sorta way_ " Chandler provided as an explanation when Will give him a flabbergasted look when he handed him his mask). His exhausted and wet gaze landed on a group of people surrounding a taller gentleman. The man was wearing a tuxedo that was made with such quality that Will could see the threads shimmer under the light from across the room. The most noteworthy thing about this man though, was his mask. 

A black wolf with _-strangely enough_ \- golden antlers that rose high above his head, bringing attention to his height. Almost stating to everyone around him that he was above and superior to them with golden filigree and red gems hanging delicately on his face. Will crossed his arms and swallowed a scoff at the ridiculousness of everyone around him, almost begging for his attention with polite taps and attempts at engaging questions. He must be an Alpha. The proud preening and _posturing_. Will could tell without even the slightest whiff of his scent. The man had a polite and almost believable smile but one look into his dark eyes gave Will the sense of boredom so strong it could kill. It brought an amused smile to Will's face but almost immediately, the man's eyes snapped up and bored right into Will's smiling face. 

Will was paralyzed under his penetrating gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, a moment so long that the man's cohorts started to turn and seek out _what_ had captured his attention. Something in this man's gaze was piercing and calculating. It unsettled him deeply. Deeply enough to slink away from the shadows and into the foyer of the building where he was able to pick up a glass of overpriced champagne. Out of sight of that nailing stare and hopefully out of mind. 

  
  


Sweat began to form under his collar and he loosened it before promptly downing alcohol, swapping the delicate crystal flute for another. He ignored the attendant's confused and mildly disgusted stare as he did it again before nursing a glass for comfort. If he had to stand around for another half hour, he reserved the right to get drunk.

Will walked outside the opera hall for a while and looked at the works of art hanging on the wall. Famous artists, none he could name but works he faintly recognize. 

He sipped his champagne slowly as he studied a painting of a nude woman with long golden hair standing upon a shell on the shore. Two figures flying in the air behind her blowing air at her while a woman fully clothed tried to throw a shawl covered in flowers around her. 

" _Venus_ is one of Botticelli's more prominent works, it is one of my favorites to look at as well." A _deep_ , accented voice, warm like velvet draped around the sun spoke very closely into his ear. 

Will jumped, heart pounding wildly in his throat as he turned sharply to the man looming behind him with an amused smile. 

"My apologies, did I startle you?" He asked, dark eyes glimmering behind his mask.

"Just a little, I didn't even hear you approach." He said shakily, trying to settle his heartbeat. Will wasn't even all that absorbed into the painting, it should have been impossible for anyone to sneak up on him like that. The masked man walked forward until he was beside Will, close enough that he realized he smelled of something heady and spices. It was mouthwatering. Definitely alpha.

“A young woman, born from seafoam and blown ashore by the god Zephyr and Aura. Do you enjoy pieces like these?” He asked and Will looked away from him, a small flush coloring his face.

“I couldn't say, I’m not around works of art like this enough to form much of an opinion. They're very...pretty.” He finished lamely. His embarrassed flush climbed to the apples of his cheeks and the stranger swallowed his countenance with his eyes greedily.

"My apologies, I saw you in the grand hall and could instantly tell that you'd be much better company than the zombie peacocks showing off to one another." He said dryly, eyes on the painting before them. 

“Odd you seem to dislike them yet allow them to swarm you.” He observed. Will wanted to say something about his mask marking him as the most noticeable person in the room, peacocking in his own way. But he kept it to himself under his watchful gaze.

“It is only common courtesy to allow them to show off their meager accolades and belongings.”

“And are you showing me such courtesy?” 

“Oh no, I believe you are showing _me_ the courtesy of allowing me your presence. Much more pleasing to all of the senses.” He purred. Will finished his champagne, the warmth of his drinks buzzing behind his eyes and at the nape of his neck, allowing the chuckle that left him to be genuine. The stranger smiled at him. 

  
  


"And what makes you think that I would be an improvement? I would consider myself something of a sentient cadaver on my off days." Will said, fingers damp against the champagne flute. The stranger managed to move closer almost imperceptibly, but Will noticed. It was hard not to. His scent intensified marginally. Will was hyper aware of this man, how elegant and long his fingers were, how broad his shoulders were under his finely made suit. How he moved like a natural predator, movements like liquid, easy to ignore until it was too late. Will swallowed dryly as a bead if sweat slid from his too long hair. Maybe he should have cut it before attending the function, he thought self consciously.

"I doubt your off days can be that bad." The stranger murmured, leaning his head down and for a moment, Will had the oddest feeling that he was sniffing him. 

"Are you sniffing me?" He asked dumbly. A blush rose to his face immediately. He resisted the urge to smack himself when the stranger stiffened slightly. 

"I just wondered what aftershave you were wearing. It's very...unique." He said politely. Will laughed, unable to hold it back.

"Yeah, apologies, I can't import the aftershave that artisans in Italy handcrafted. You'll have to forgive this commoner." Will said sarcastically. This brought a wide smile to the stranger and will greedily took in the features he was able to with the mask on. A sharp jaw and from the bone structure that he _could_ see, an even sharper set of cheekbones. Soft looking lips and aristocratic features. He didn't look like he was from America, nor did he sound it. 

The stranger chuckled, voice deep and husky.

"Truthfully, the Italian aftershaves do leave something to be desired, if I can be honest."

Will raised his brow.

"Well, what a surprise. Maybe the perfect scent is achievable after all. Hopefully affordable. " he joked, twisting the empty glass between his fingers. A warm hand firmly grabbed his hand. He looked up in mild shock and confusion. The stranger stared into Will's eyes fiercely, molten gold invading all of Will's remaining rational thought before shattering them when he lifted his pale wrist to his nose and tracing a small pattern into his scent glands.

Wills breathing changed, shallow and wet as the heated gentle breaths from the gentleman tickled his skin pink. He must have felt his pulse increase, there was no way he hadn't. God this was...the most intimate he had ever been with an alpha.

"Mmh," he breathed without breaking eye contact, "I can quite confidently say that your scent in itself is quite exquisite, clean and potent. Like a brisk winter night after a _long_ hot summer."

He rubbed his thumb teasingly on his wrist and Will had to grit his teeth in order not to outright groan and humiliate himself. 

The stranger blessedly pulled back and released him gently with a secretive smile, his eyes fully dilated and glistening. 

"I'd bottle it if I could but I wouldn't sell it, no, such a treat would inspire the greediest and most possessive behavior, if it existed." He spoke so smoothly, so clearly, as if he were not saying the most embarrassing shit Will had ever heard. 

Will cleared his throat, face tinged a ruddy red. 

"I-I don't know what to say." Will whispered, looking away and rubbing at his tender wrist. He could tell his scent clung to the stranger, slightly melding with his own. It made him feel 

"Tell me, what-"

" _WILL_!" Chandler's whiny voice cut through the foyer and made will wince. The stranger raised a brow, something happening behind his eyes. Will gave him a rueful smile. 

  
  


"That's my que. I must go before he breaks something expensive in his search for me."

The stranger opened his mouth before a screeching “ _WILLIAM_!" pierced the air and cut him off.

The stranger smiled tightly, before lifting one of Will’s knuckles to his lips, kissing it chastely before stepping back. 

"May we meet again, Will." He purred before turning around and striding away. Will couldn't help but feeling a wave of disappointment as he watched the handsome stranger's athletic build disappear. God.

  
  


Will didn't move until he saw Chandler's golden mane over his lion mask. 

Chandler squinted at him before recognizing his face. Will let out a sigh. 

"Willie my boy! I think I- _I think_ I need a ride home..." He slurred leaning on Will's body, slumping heavily on him. Will wanted to be angry at him for making him come here in the first place but...

_flashes on warm dry skin rubbing his own, a sharp nose pressed roughly into his wrist, dark eyes, molten like magma watching him hungrily..._

  
  


“Sure Chandler, lets go.” 

He'd forgive him this time. 

  
  


*****

  
  


Ten years had passed from that evening and Will was losing his mind. Jack Crawford needed him, _most desperately_ he insisted. He made it seem like Will had the choice of helping the world using his gift and feeling himself deteriorate mentally each time or being the worst kind of human being alive. He came knocking with serious eyes and made his argument and left him the choice after picking at his conscious like a crow over a dead animal.

So of _course_ he fucking accepted. What else could he do? Go to bed knowing there would be more girls dying when he could have prevented it? He barely got sleep without the guilt holding him down. 

But now whenever he went to bed, he found himself dreaming of their bloodied corpses in his bed, staring at him accusingly with their large brown eyes...

He slept restlessly. Nightmares every time he closed his eyes. His already irregular heats became almost non-existent after he began helping the FBI. He’s been saving alot of money for suppressants, he’ll give that to jack. 

But due to these night terrors, he simply didn't go to bed anymore, for his own sake.

  
  


"Will, you look like shit." Jack stated as he walked into his office. Will resisted the urge to grimace. He wasn't wrong.

"I'm not a supermodel jack, I don't work here to be aesthetically pleasing to you." He groused, removing his glasses to clean them, only to put them back on and realize that they aren't dirty, his vision is just strained. He sighed and plopped down into the seat facing Jack's desk. 

"I'm not obsessed over your beauty or lack thereof Will, I need to know you're not going to self destruct the next time I drag you to a crime scene. For Christ's sake, when was the last time you got some real sleep Will?" Jack's face was pinched in a delightful mixture of concern, irritation and frustration. Will closed his eyes and thought about it.

  
  


"Hmm...Monday?" Will said. Jack made a sharp sound with his teeth. 

"Which Monday will? Today is Tuesday. Are you saying you slept yesterday?" The alpha asked patiently. 

Will thought about it some more. 

"No, last Monday." He said finally.

"Jesus. Alright this cannot continue. I need you sharp and at your best for this case, we can't afford to slip up. "Jack growled out. 

Will distantly reflected about how troubled Jack sounded and felt oddly comforted. Maybe good Ol uncle Jack cares after all. 

"Look Will, Dr.Lecter here is going to help you. He's a psychiatrist and a damned good one. And he's a doctor so he'll help you get some sleep and recover. You will attend sessions with him and you get better. Do you hear me?"

Will's eyes snapped open and color flowed strangely. He squinted against the bright light into the seat beside him and realized that there was a massive alpha seated there the entire time. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." He said tiredly. He doesn't know how he missed the sturdy mass of flesh, the dark eyes beneath the harsh fluorescent lights and the beautiful and soft looking, honey wheat shaded hair. His cheekbones were so sharp that Will had to consciously resist reaching out and touching them. The man smiled gently under his scrutinizing gaze and reached out to shake his hand. There was something _familiar_ about him that Will couldn't place but he was almost certain he had never met him before. Will grasped his hand and shook it gently and wondered at the rough, dry quality. His palm definitely _wasn't_ dry. They rarely ever were if he were being honest with himself. Maybe he had a sweating disorder, he wondered as he admired the extraordinarily _dry_ hand in his own. 

" _Will_!" Jack snapped, cutting through his reverie. Will quickly let go of the hand, embarrassed and looked up at the person connected to it almost sheepishly. Dr.Lecter had a subtly entertained expression carved on his face, dark eyes twinkling in a way that had Will wondering if he was experiencing Deja vu or simply hallucinations.

"Worry not, I understand that you are suffering from extreme sleep deprivation. Call me Hannibal." Hannibal introduced, his smile showing the slight slight wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and mouth. He had a _very_ attractive accent, Will noticed as he continued to flagrantly stare at him.

"Uh yeah, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Will graham. Jack probably told you that already..." Will trailed off, awkwardly sliding his eyes to the irritated yet subtly amused jack. 

"Will, get out of my office and schedule an appointment with Dr.Lecter. Immediately. " He said with a pointed look. Hannibal and Will left the room together, Hannibal watching him closely as he tried to not stumble into every wall and door. 

Hannibal gripped his upper arm tightly before he nailed his head into a wall that mysteriously appeared. God, Will felt like shit.

"Due to the gravitas of the situation, I'll open up my evenings for your treatment. I understand that you carry a weighty responsibility so I would be honored to help you return to normal.” He rumbled, his face pulled into an expression of veiled concern when Will looked up at him.

Will was tempted to decline, he really didn't need to give people trouble with his atypical neuroses. Hannibal saw him open his mouth and must have seen the hesitation on his face. 

“Please, go home and bring things that you find comfort into my office. I'll prepare while you're gone and please," Hannibal stood in front of will, his scent filling him with warmth, making his exhaustion that much more potent. 

"Do not drive. Take a taxi. In fact I'll call you one. Come." 

Hannibal led him outside and hailed him a cab. Hannibal politely asked for his address and Will droned it out almost mechanically. Will felt detached, as if he were watching the scenario from outside his body. The way this alpha handled him, politely and tidily, accented voice muted as he spoke into the window of the cab. He should be angry. He should be feeling furious. Will had snapped and crushed many and Alpha’s ego for doing less yet Will didn’t feel the need to. Will watched him pull out his wallet with a furrowed brow and tried to interject instinctively. 

"Wait, I can pay-" 

"I don't doubt that you can but please, allow me." Hannibal looked down at him, a tiny smile perched on his lips. Will wanted to argue but there was something in his expression that convinced him that any protest would be cheerfully battered away with logic and reason and Will was _tired_. 

"Well, if you're sure." Will replied uncertainly. 

At that Hannibal's eyes glimmer, pleased at his response. 

"I am." 

Hannibal paid the cab driver after a few muted words and held the rear door open and smiled at him. Will slid into the dark seat, clutching his messenger bag carefully as he settled. Hannibal gazes at him over the door until Will was properly seated, then gently closed the door. 

  
  


"This gentleman will remain nearby until you're ready to leave, and I will be waiting patiently for your arrival." He said through the glass. Will nodded thankfully, eyebrows pulled together in thought. 

Hannibal tapped the cab door twice and stepped back as the driver took that as permission to leave. His face was oddly blank 

Will resisted the urge to look behind him and stare at Hannibal till he could no longer see him.

  
  


***********

Will stood in his house, multiple beady eyes on him curiously as he struggled to find what he considered to bring him _'comfort'_. He dressed in the only pajama set he had, certain that sleeping in boxers would be a little more than awkward.

He doubted Hannibal would appreciate him bringing all of his strays. Will ended up bringing his time worn pillow and a clean towel, just in case. 

  
  


***********

Will arrived at the office a little before 7 p.m. It was snowing gently and he cursed himself for not just packing the light pajamas in his bag. The wind sliced through the thin cotton and he could barely feel his fingers. Real smart will, he thought bitterly as he stepped into the unlocked door. 

The first thing Will noticed when he entered Hannibal’s office was the overpowering scent of Alpha. The cloying scent of masculinity, burning wood and spices was so overwhelmingly thick that he feared he would faint in the foyer. The lights that were low and unobtrusive were suddenly bright and Will didn't need to see a mirror to know that his eyes were nearly black with how dialed his pupils must be.

_No way a respectable psychiatrist would allow their scent to be so strong_ . Will thought to himself as he wandered into the tastefully decorated office, Lecter nowhere in sight. _Unless he did this specifically for me?_

_Highly_ unlikely, he decided

Will hesitated and debated walking back into the foyer but God, he didn't want to leave the room. Deep down inside he hoped his clothes would catch the scent and he could take it with him. He inhaled the air around him liberally. He couldn't stop himself, even if he wanted to.

"Hello Will." Hannibal's voice came from above and he looked up and realized that there was another level to the room. Hannibal was dressed in a beige sweater that looked so soft that he almost hated him for it. Hannibal stared at him for a few moments, expression indecipherable as his eyes scanned Will’s expression, then his body.

"Hey, I didn't know if you wanted me to sit in the foyer or not." Will cut out awkwardly as Hannibal made his way down, graceful and nearly silent as he lithely climbed down the ladder. 

"Of course, please have a seat and make yourself comfortable." 

He strode to the tasteful wooden desk near the far side of the room, face focused as he shuffled and organized the sheets of paper there. It instantly tickled Will's mind as suspicious but he snuffed it as a side effect of being in law enforcement for too long.

Will shuffled to the dark leather seat, his bag clutched tightly to his side and sweat slowly forming beneath his fringe. The room was too warm, the scent too powerful and Hannibal too attentive, even while he appeared to be reading something on his desk, he could feel the weight of his attention. Will was going to actually fall asleep quite soon and a twinge of fear hung in the back of his throat, heavy and dark. He swallowed nervously. 

Hannibal's eyes snapped sharply to his neck at the motion.

"Thank you." Will said tiredly as he took a seat. The chair was plush and threatened to swallow him while politely keeping his dignity by not doing so. It felt expensive, Will thought as he slowly rubbed the armrest. 

"Of course. Would you like some refreshments? Water?" Hannibal inquired, his voice smooth but gaining volume as he prowled silently across the room to him. Will shook his head slowly, the weight of his exhaustion heavy on his eyelids. 

Hannibal took the seat before him, eyes black beneath the darkened light. 

"I will watch over you tonight. You did not take any medication or substances before you arrived here I hope?" He rumbled, voice low and soothing. Will shook his head slowly, the motion twisting the world into a blur. 

"Very good. I will observe you, take notes and we will talk once you awaken." Will stared at his fingers, trying to mute the subtle fear and anxiety under his skin at the thought of being watched while vulnerable. He forced himself not to grit his teeth, a telling tick. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"Very well."

Hannibal stood and motioned toward the fancy-looking chaise lounge that was almost the size of his bed at home. A dark red cashmere blanket and some soft looking pillows laid upon it. Will blanched at it. He felt like he shouldn't even sit on the chaise, let alone wrap himself around the plush looking pillows.

Hannibal raised a brow as read his anxious expression.

"Please, feel free to make yourself as comfortable as possible. I brought these in hope that you would enjoy them and fall asleep with ease." He said tactfully.

Will worked his jaw. 

"Yeah,sure thanks." He mumbled awkwardly. Hannibal gave him a secretive smile. He moved to the front door and secured it, double checked the windows to make certain that they were locked. Something about the Alpha's actions soothed Will in spite of his lack of trust in him. 

Will slipped off his shoes and dropped his bag. He didn't want to cover the soft and thick blanket with dog hair so he kept his blanket in the bag but the towel in arms reach. Hannibal noticed and raised a brow.

  
  


"Do you find yourself frequently susceptible to night sweats?" 

Will snorted.

"Oh, you have no idea." He mumbled as he laid himself down, the world tilting as his eyes darkened near the edges. God, he was so, so tired. 

He pulled the blanket up and over his shoulder and rested it beneath his chin. Hannibal settled in a seat close by with a notebook and a tablet between his long fingers. He stretched his long legs out before crossing them neatly at the ankle. Will realized how awkward this really should be but he couldn't feel it. He felt no judgment or awkwardness in the dark stare that was quickly becoming commonplace. The curiosity, the familiar _something_ he couldn't decipher and a hint of something otherworldly and consuming. A smile lingered on his lips under Will's analytical, drowsy stare.

"You are safe here. You may rest."

Will let out a small huff before falling surprisingly quickly, into darkness.

  
  


*************

  
  


Will was floating. Unseen pressure, a push and pull of darkness that lifted him toward the golden light above him. Indecipherable whispers surrounded him, girls laughing from the darkness echoing around him. Will tried to close his eyes but every time he blinked he was further and further away from the light, his freedom. The feminine giggles turned into screams, screams so piercing and loud that it pushed him into opening his own mouth to release his fear as honestly as the people around him. Will tried to scream but found his mouth stuffed to the brim with bloodied black feathers. The world tilted and warped and he saw the hooves of a black stag treading water. Will tried to move to the beast, the gentle pressure that guided him turned into sharp, grasping claws that pulled him further and further away from the stag the more he struggled.

The dark figure of a tall appeared behind the antlers and the gleam of a sharp blade shone from in hand. Will felt himself shout in pain, agony and alarm as the man cut through the stags throat like butter, almost beheading it. 

The stag fell into a puddle of black blood but the antlers remained on the man's head. He looked directly at Will.

Will woke up gasping, hands clutching at his neck, air stuck in his throat. He was panting like a winded dog, choking on accumulated spit in his mouth with cheeks as pale as the dead.

"Will." 

Will looked around wildly and nearly fell off the chaise lounge, the damp cashmere blanket twisted between his legs like blood. Hannibal walked from behind him, a bottle of water in his hands and his head tilted slightly to the left. 

Will remembered where he was, remembered the strong scent around and stared into Hannibal's eyes, each blink pushing his nightmare back.

"What did you dream of, Will?" Hannibal asked, handing the chilled bottle of water while looking alert and aware and oddly intent. Will took it with shaking hands. Will looked away and peered at the windows and noted that the moon was high in the night sky.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Approximately two hours and a half. You seemed calm until about 45 minutes ago." He said, casually putting two fingers to Wills throat to take his pulse. Will struggled not to flinch and shy away. He barely stopped himself.

  
  


"Why didn't you wake me?" He asked suddenly, breaking the heavy silence.

"Is that what you would have preferred?" Hannibal asked after a lengthy pause.

Will pursed his lips, before frowning. 

"I don't know, it's just strange that you would just watch me struggle in my sleep and do nothing about it." 

Hannibal stood at that. 

"I wasn't entirely sure you were having a nightmare, just that you were agitated and sleep talking. By the time I understood you were under duress, you were already in the process of waking up." He said carefully, before sitting in the chair that was facing him. 

Will looked at him for a while longer, searching for any sign of deception but quickly realized that he wouldn't get anything from the mask-like face. 

Will stood up, untangling his legs from the overly soft blanket and stretched. He stood around awkwardly. 

  
  


"So what do we do now? I don't mind if you don't think you can really do anything for me. Jack wouldn't be that upset at you." Will began, slowly putting his belongings back Into his bag, dreading the sleepless nights before him. God that was probably the worst nightmare he had in awhile.

  
  


Hannibal shook his head, motioning for Will to stop packing. 

"We aren't done _yet_ Will, now that I've seen you without any external influence, we shall now try a few sleeping aids." 

He stood up and walked towards his desk, ignoring Will's frown but successfully stopping him from packing.

He returned with two small purple pills wrapped in wax paper and additional water. Will was startled to realize that he unconsciously finished his previous bottle and was clenching the plastic tightly. He self-consciously loosened his grip.

"Yeah, alright." He took the pills and swallowed them quickly. Will hesitated before shrugging off his pajama top and wrapping the blanket around him securely. He ignored the smile that was on Hannibal's face and shakily laid down again. He forced his eyes shut and tried to wish away anymore nightmares.

Unfortunately, Will was seldom lucky.


	2. La carte de la mort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Death card can be a sign you may feel as though you are caught in the path of sweeping change and cannot escape its effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with a second installment. I must admit that i have not written in a long while so you must be patient with me during these trying times :')

Will still had nightmares after falling asleep, vivid and warped but this time, the medicine quite literally _forced_ him to sleep through it the entire night. Living in the horrid cesspool of his mind for another 6 hours straight. It seemed that Hannibal wasn't all that surprised when Will angrily snapped at him and told him to _never_ give him anything like that again. After climbing from the grips of sleep in a pool of sweat that stained everything he was in contact with and on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, he realized he had never been more _tired_ after a night's rest. He instantly jumped up and went to leave, shoes forgotten and half his mind _stuck_ in the dark pits of his dreams. 

Hannibal somehow was still awake and alert and jumped to stop him before he took a step out into fresh snow. The bright morning light and near freezing temperature reached Will's mind and he could finally hear the quiet murmuring of Hannibal gently coaxing him back into the office. Will was panting loudly, heart thundering in his chest almost mercilessly. His chest felt like it was wrapped tight in damp plastic and his head felt like he spent the night beating it like a drum

" _Come inside_. I will prepare some coffee so you can wake up properly." He crooned, his tight grip gentled marginally and Will's rapidly growing urge to flee diminished. He became less crazed and more aware with every second and finally relaxed. He was cleverly seduced back into the warm building and into the hands of his nightmares. He couldn't find the strength to fight back.

  
  


********

Will suspected that Jack Crawford wasn't being entirely honest with him. The probing questions into his psyche, the distinct sensation of being psychoanalyzed. He snapped at Jack and Hannibal, his troubled episode with sleep making him entirely more irritable and heated than usual. 

He had decided at that moment that he wouldn't return to Hannibal's office for sleep therapy or any therapy in general and he said as much to them both.

That was working well until one exceptionally bright morning, Hannibal arrived at his room bearing warm breakfast and apologies with surprisingly enjoyable banter. Will wanted to be cold and defensive, but found it difficult when the succulent scent of delicious food permeated his senses. It didn't help that he had barely eaten in the past two days. Hannibal offered him a solution, stating that in his professional opinion, Will is stable enough to work regularly and only needs to work on his sleep therapy with him. Will gave him a dubious look and asked him why.

"Jack views you as his little teacup, will. You're like fine china, brought out only for his high profile guests." Hannibal said, wiping his mouth neatly. Will laughed so hard he had to lean back before he knocked anything off the breakfast table. Hannibal gave him a small smile, lips upturned and eyes glistening at the sound.

"And how do you view me?" Well asked, once he regained semblance of control

The look in Hannibal's eyes changed into something darker, less controlled. 

"I see you as the mongoose I want under my house as the snakes slither by." He said, face devoid of any humor. Will just looked at him, surprise coloring his features.

  
  


"Well, I don't do therapy. It's never agreed with me and I doubt it would do me well now." He said after a pause. He could tell Hannibal wanted to contest but wisely dropped it.

The day moved very quickly and before Will could even properly metabolize the sausage and eggs, his hands were coated in warm blood and he's firing rounds into a living, breathing body until it's lying crumpled against blood-stained cabinets. Then very soon after, his fingers were slipping against the gushing throat of a girl with brown hair and wide eyes who was gasping for air. Will was shaking, shaking far too much for the pressure he was applying to be stable enough and his stomach dropped as he realized that she could possibly die because of it. 

" _ See _ ? _ See _ ?" The raspy voice of the dying beta, traitor to his family, pierced his panic and when he looked over at him through blood coated glasses, he would come to regret doing so for months to come. 

Hannibal gently removed Will’s shaky hands and applied firm and constant pressure against the girl's throat and Will shakily called for help. He watched Hannibal escort the girl into the ambulance distantly, not frazzled nor extraordinarily disturbed. Will's fingers were caked in drying blood and he could barely move the joints. He let a harsh breath escape him as he left with the forensics team. 

He went to visit the Hobbs's girl, exhaustion wearing him down but he...needed to see her, care for her. He resisted the idea that it was his omegan nature that pulled him towards the orphan. She was alone and he was covered in her blood not too long ago. He had to make sure she was okay. He  _ needed  _ to.

It was with great surprise that he found Hannibal Lecter sleeping in the chair besides her bed, his large hand gently holding her smaller paler one.

Something about the image rattled something small and cold in his chest. Hannibal's vulnerable, sleeping face, the blood on his sleeve and the thick bloody gauze that wrapped around Abigail's throat. He took a seat on the other side of her bed and laid his head near her arm. 

She needed him.

  
  


He closed his eyes in hope that he could rest as peacefully as them but sleep was no longer happening. It was simply impossible. He was running out of options. 

It was the appearance of Garret Jacob Hobbs in his classroom as he gave a lecture that finally forced him to take Hannibal's gentle offer of just talking. 

  
  
  


*******************

Will was feeling worn out and worn through. A while later he and Jack were looking into Garret Jacob Hobbs’s cabin. Where he took the girls he killed and mounted them on Antlers like a work of art. Jack told him that he suspected that Abigail Hobbs, the same one that almost died in his arms was a suspect. He tries to diverge focus to the copycat killer that's lurking about but predictably, Jacks like a dog with a bone, certain he knows the truth.

If that wasn't enough to worry about, he had to stress about a single piece of bright red hair that was found in the cabin.

He goes to class, exhausted beyond belief only to be ambushed by Jack and Alana Bloom of all people into taking a psych eval. 

"You've never killed someone." Jack says as if that's going to be enough to make Will accept having some shrink digging around in his head. 

"It's a part of the job Jack. I'm fine." Will is beyond annoyed.

His students clear out the room as he packs his belongings as quickly as he feasibly can. He's irritated and tired and now he  _ has  _ to be evaluated before he can do anything else. All because he fired one too many shots.

"Why don't you just try to talk to Hannibal, Will? He was there, he knows exactly what you went through. " Alana offers, her beautiful dark hair hanging in her face and eyes shining pleadingly at him. 

He gritted his teeth and stormed out, uncomfortable and pissed at the ambush. 

"C'mon Will!  _ I need my beauty sleep _ !" Jack shouted at his retreating back. 

Will doesn't seem to have much of a choice about it.

  
  


********

"Here you are." Hannibal's husky voice said up to him. Will turned and peered over the banister.

"What's that?" Will asked as Hannibal offered him a document. He took it and read it with a slight frown. 

"It's your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane." He said with a small smile. Will frowned.

"Are you rubber-stamping for me?" Will asked incredulously, turning away from the books entirely. He met Hannibal's eyes.

"Yes, so Jack Crawford can go to sleep at night knowing he didn't break you, and so our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork." He replied, his handsome face almost smug as he peered up at will. Will didn't know how he felt about it. The audacity to choose to lie to an FBI agent just to continue their 'conversations' was probably the most Alpha like behavior he had seen Hannibal do.

"You don't think I'm broken?" Will couldn't help but ask. There was no way Hannibal could call him anything less. He had bags that we're darkening his face, making him look gaunt. He got away with frequent 15 minute naps. 

"Something broken doesn't get up and continues to do the same thing that injures it. It is incapable of it. That is the behavior of something strong, even if injured ." 

Will scoffed and slowly walked around the balcony, Hannibal's head-turning to follow his movements. The light hit his face in such a way that the usual sharpness now softened into thoughtfulness. 

"Jack has the ability to take your mind to dark places."

"Yeah, the last time I went into a dark place I brought something back." He snapped.

"A surrogate daughter?" Hannibal asked, curiosity coloring his face. Will faltered, his face falling in surprise and like a shark in bloody waters, Hannibal latched onto it.

"You saved Abigail Hobbs's life while simultaneously orphaning her. That can come with an overwhelming feeling of obligation, regardless of empathy disorder." 

"Do you? Feel an obligation to her? You saved her life too" Will asked in a rough voice as he started at the ceiling lights, eyes unfocused.

Hannibal looked at him for a moment, his expression indecipherable.

"Yes. I feel an staggering amount of obligation." Will turned to him at that, dark eyes swallowing Hannibal's expression, searching for any form of deceit but finding none. He started at him wordlessly.

"I feel responsibility. I've fantasized about different scenarios where Abigail Hobbs would have a different outcome." 

Will nodded hesitantly before shifting his gaze to an empty spot on the wall.

"Jack Crawford thinks that Abigail Hobbs helped her dad kill those girls." He said, his face tinged with incredulity.

Something hard and made of steel slide behind the skin of Hannibal's face, hostile while his expression remained the same as before. Will looked on curiously. 

"And how does that make you feel?" Hannibal asked, even-toned.

"How does that make  _ you _ feel?" Will threw back, a smirk on his lips. 

"I find it vulgar."

"Me too."

"And entirely possible."

"That's not what happened."

"Jack will ask her. Or make one of us ask her." Hannibal's hand adjusted something on his desk, and for the first time since they were there, let his focus shift away from Will. Will takes advantage of this distraction and stared at him.

Him and Hannibal, Abigail's surrogate fathers. It feels natural. And of course he feels an obligation, he held her throat closed and saved her life while Will was going through an episode. He wondered distantly if Abigail's addition would change their dynamic. 

Flashes of the impossible, instinct pressing images of warmth, family and safety into his mind so abruptly that he violently flinched and took a step back.

  
  


Hannibal suddenly looked up at him and Will turned away quickly, entirely unwilling to let this particular train of thought continue.

  
  
  
  


**********

Hannibal asked him if he would like a sleeping session that night but Will declined, stating he needed to take care of the dogs which was true. He drove to Wolf Trap beneath the dark and heavy clouds and a somber grey sky. It would definitely rain so he rushed home so he could at least take the dogs out without everyone getting wet. 

He made it home just as it was beginning to sprinkle and was nearly toppled over by the dogs. Winston was near the back, not quite yet as comfortable with affection as everyone else but his tail was wagging happily. Will smiled at him before letting everyone out. He watched them do their business and run around for a while before calling everyone in when the rain began to fall in earnest. Will then made himself a turkey sandwich, pretended to take interest in the news feed on his phone, fed everyone and then climbed into his bed, hoping and praying that he would at least be able to sleep for a few hours. 

The heater was on yet he felt chilled, cold to the bone. Nothing like Hannibal's almost too warm office. He was almost tempted to bring a pup up to cuddle with but he knew it would just spoil them.

He breathed deeply, willing his overactive mind to still. He could feel his body steadily begin to relax and slowly let himself fall asleep. 

  
  
  
  


Will felt the distant winter chill creep into his skin slowly like a dream. Blue and red lights flashed before him and he wondered faintly if he were dreaming. His teeth chattered and the ice cold wind suddenly blew sharply, waking him almost instantaneously. He stood still. He was standing in the middle of the cold wet road, clothed only in his boxers and a shirt. His hair was wet and he couldn't feel his toes.

The two officers in the patrol car came forward to question him, looking at him suspiciously. They kept looking at his right hand and realized Winston had followed him out. Numb and unnerved, he and Winston accepted the ride back to his home and he decided not to think too hard about this sleepwalking stint. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


After another restless night, Beverly Katz dragged him to a crime scene that was hidden beneath the brush of a fertile forest. The bright green leaves gave signs of blooming life but the familiar scent of decay was the first thing that hit him.

As he came closer and closer to the bodies he couldn't help but cover his nose, the wildly overwhelming stench of death and decomposition made his eyes water. 

"So, I heard Lecter gave you the all clear" Jack caught up to him, tightening his gloves, face pinched in revulsion at the thick scent. 

"Therapy is an acquired taste, of which I've yet to acquire. But it served your purpose, I'm back in the field." Will said dryly, his eyes darting back and forth between the crime scene and Jack's face. 

Jack simply raised his brow and smirked at him before swiftly changing the subject. 

"Local police found tire tracks on a hidden service road, with some animal traps nearby." Will stared at the bodies being unearthed, covered in mushrooms at different stages of growth. 

"He wanted to keep his crop undisturbed." He said lightly, eyes eating up the scene, taking in every tiny detail.

"Nine bodies, various stages of decay, and as you can see,  _ very  _ well fertilized." Jimmy said as he stood stiffly, his knees almost betraying him and sending him back into the dirt.

"He buried him in a high nutrient compost. He was very  _ enthusiastically  _ encouraging decomposition." Beverly said with her usual amused grin. Will raised his brow at her. The alpha winked at him.

"They were buried alive, with the intention of keeping them that way, I mean...for a little while at least." Zeller said, face oddly disturbed. It seemed like he was comfortable with blood and gore and steeply out of his league with human shaped mushroom farms. 

"I think it was for removing any trace of their identity. " Jimmy said, stretching his back, a very loud  _ pop  _ echoing in the space. Everyone looked at him in varying shades of concern and amusement. The omega flushed and scowled.

"Line and rebar was used to administer intravenous fluid after they were buried. He was  _ feeding  _ them." Zeller said. Will looked over the victims bodies, looking for something that wasn't there.

"No restraints?" He asked.

"Just dirt." Zeller said, shrugging. 

This came off as strange to will. They were alive, unrestrained yet laying there to die. Maybe a drug, he pondered. They all saw Will's expression and quickly vacated the crime scene.

"Welcome back." Jack muttered to him, face pulled into a frown as he left him alone.

  
  
  


He took a few steps forward, gaining a closer and clearer look. The bodies hooked up the wires, covered in fungi, made his coffee want to come back up. Hannibal wasn't here today, and it was a distinct loss to him. He was beginning to become used to the tall figure behind him, always close. He wondered what observation he would make, of the victims or the killer himself in his posh accent and careful steps. He guessed he would just find out later, during  _ therapy _ , he thought bitterly.

Will cleared his mind and closed his eyes, his eyes thrumming in time with his heartbeat. He breathed slowly, feeling his pulse slow and time slowed around him until it paused entirely. Then he was moving backward. 

Digging up places for his farm, working hard, earnestly. They did not fit perfectly into the life they carved and meandered through meaninglessly, but they would fit  _ perfectly  _ in his garden, connected in ways that they could never  _ dream  _ of. _ I can give them this. _ How fortunate for them, he thought as he laid the warm, breathing bodies in their graves. They weren't dead, but they would never be conscious again. He thought, pleased, and content as he stood and viewed his living and thriving garden.  _ This is my design _

Will's eyes fluttered open and instantly felt the weight of many gazes upon him. He ignored them. His head pounded angrily under the sunlight and he wished he could take his aspirin. 

Will ignored the chatter around him and walked over to one of the graves. He peered inside and felt his chest tighten and his mind freeze. The insipid blue eyes of garret Jacob Hobbs stared back at him, a pale smile twisted on his dead face as Will stumbled backward. A cold sweat dripped down his as his breath stuttered, fear clenched between his teeth and inside his stomach. 

A hand shot out and grabbed him and pulled, a gasp of pain and agony sliding through the victim's dried throat. Will was paralyzed, a scream of terror lodged in his throat. Jimmy started to yell at him, pushing him aside and Will stumbled into the soft dirt around, stunned. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


"This may have been premature." Will said as he not so gently placed his psych evaluation onto Hannibal's desk before shakily climbing the ladder to the second floor. It was comfortable there. He didn't like being on the same level as Hannibal, above felt safer. Less intimidating. 

Hannibal raised both brows, confusion crossing his face like a shadow before settling back to normal. 

  
  


"What did you see? Out in the field?" Will had begun roaming around the balcony, taking a closer look at the surroundings he had neglected the first time he was here. He needed the distraction if he were to talk about his hallucinations. 

Hannibal's scent was still around but not nearly as strong as it had been the first time he'd been here nor the last time. He could actually think now. 

"What makes you think I'm seeing anything, Dr.Lecter? Rather presumptuous of you isn't it?" Will replied shakily, mood sour as he trailed his gaze to the myriad of books that were nestled into heavy wooden book cases. Most were obviously related to physiology and psychology but he found a startling amount of books of philosophy. There was even _ Plato's symposium _ there for god's sake.

Will could hear Hannibal walk around almost silently but he could hear his steps as loud as gunshots. His senses were still hyper-aware of everything about the man and it was  _ stressful _ . He felt keyed up around Hannibal, his instincts brewing a storm in his mind alongside the breakdown that was so close to beaching the surface. 

"It is not an odd jump to make, considering that you've been through quite a bit of traumatizing events this past month. It would be completely natural if you were seeing anything out of the ordinary." He replied smoothly. Will glanced back at him. Hannibal was dressed in a deep dark blue, full three-piece suit that probably cost more than the entirety of Will's meager wardrobe. The quality, even to his untrained eye, was extremely high. It suited him. 

"Natural, huh." Will spotted a book that was out of place and picked it up. It was gaudy, bright yellow with poorly painted cards on top, and thinner than the others. Yet the most surprising thing about it was the subject.

"’ _ Tarot and the Occult: Practices of fortune telling and their integration with everyday life _ .’" Will read aloud, surprise coloring his tone as he read the title. He didn't return the book and climbed down the ladder to the first floor. 

"An interesting read for sure, I highly recommend that book in particular if you have any interest in the occult," Hannibal said, Taking a seat in one of the leather seats, crossing his legs neatly as Will approached him. His eyes sparkled in curiosity as he watched Will open the book and skip through a few pages. Will was astonished. 

"I didn't take you as the type for  _ Divination  _ and soothsaying Doctor Lecter." Will's eyebrows rose further as he saw the bright yet oddly gruesome art of the tarot cards. 

"I find the subject entirely enthralling, especially the effect it has on humans. Why do humans desire to know what has yet to happen? To the point that they make contact with spirits or otherworldly creatures, and even sell their soul for the slightest glimpse into the future?" He said as Will flipped through more pages, the images of the cards striking his psyche in such a piercing way. He soon put the book on a side table. Closed yet the images were sharp in his mind's eye.

" _ Hope _ is what I'd guess. People are curious about what lies in the future. Are they going to become a millionaire? Will they get their soulmate? Will the  _ Cowboys  _ win the Superbowl? Humans aren't that interesting. Very predictable." Will droned as he closed the book and sat in the chair facing Hannibal. Will rubbed his thumbs against the well-oiled leather and raised his eyes to Hannibal's. Hannibal's gaze was dark and ponderous and locked on to Will. 

"What is it that you hope for Will? Would you like me to give you a reading?" 

Will couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, his body shaking at the idea. Hannibal smiled.

"Hope? I don't have much hope for anything, I doubt your readings could satisfy me." Will let out when he regained his ability to breathe. 

"Well, hope isn't the only thing people use foretelling for. Some people believe if they know the bad things that are destined to afflict them in the future, that they can prevent them with means of prayer or sacrifice, whether it's to a God, The Devil or the Other." Hannibal said, opening his hands. Will scoffed. Something in Hannibal's eyes shifted, something primal and  _ hungry _ . 

"Then tell me, Will, what is it you  _ fear _ ?"

Images flashed before Will's eyes, Garett Jacob Hobbs's cold and wet body walking toward him, lying in someone else's grave, his freedom taken away from him due to his  _ 'gift'  _ and being strapped down to a table while being lobotomized. Dying. 

"I fear losing myself. My mind." He whispered, looking at his hands that were clenched against the arms of his chair. 

"Do you fear losing your mind while working for Jack?" 

Will hesitated. 

"I don't think it's... _ conducive _ to keeping me sane. The crime scenes become more and more... _ creative _ every time he calls for me." He lets out. Hannibal hums in understanding.

"I know that the most recent event for you must be troubling you. I've been told that you had never killed someone before." Will looked up at him sharply, expecting judgment or concern on his face. He found none.

In fact he found a quiet, twisted darkness that was almost pleased in his eyes, even though his face was an impartial mask. 

Will bit his lip. He breathed out shakily. 

"It was  _ why  _ I stopped being a beat cop. Couldn't pull the trigger when I needed to. Got a fancy scar on my shoulder, stabbed on the job. Figured I could use a new career."

He smiled begrudgingly at Hannibal.

"Was it fear of it happening again that made you leave the force?" Hannibal inquired. 

"Oh no, I left because I hated it. Catching petty criminals, sending them to be locked up for years for just selling drugs, something that was their livelihoods. To survive. Left me sick to my stomach." Will looked away, into the window where the sun was threatening to set beyond purple clouds. 

"How did you feel when you were attacked? Did you fight back? Did the assailant get away?" 

Will's eyes lost focus as he dropped into the memory. 

"Something about laying face down in a pool of your own blood, watching it spreading out around you, merging into the puddles of rainwater beneath the sky. Knowing that you're dying but being incapable of moving, let alone doing anything about it." He trailed off distantly. Hannibal just watched him in silence. 

  
  


"Uh, yeah my partner chased after him and got 'im. He's in prison doing time for attempted murder and armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon." He said after a while.

They were silent for a moment. 

"What did you see?" 

Will swallowed. 

"Hobbs." He said, voice shaking. 

"An association?"

"No, a hallucination." Will swallowed, clenching the arms of his seat. 

"I saw him lying there, in someone else's grave."

"Did you tell Jack what you saw?" Hannibal asked, his gaze intense. 

" _ No _ ." Will spat out, turning his face away. He rubbed at his beard, his cold wet fingers warming up slightly at the friction. 

Hannibal sat back, head tilted in thought. 

"It's _ stress. _ Not worth reporting." He said, tone self assured.

"You displaced the victim of another killer's crime, which could arguably be considered your victim." He continued at Will’s silence. 

"Hobbs is  _ not  _ my victim." Will bit out. 

"Then what do you consider him?" Will paused, mind going back to the sight of Hobb's corpse. Lifeless blue eyes starting at him, a smug expression on his face almost taunting. 

"Dead." He said breathlessly. 

"How did you feel when you killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs?"

Will was silent. 

"Did it feel how you anticipated it would?" 

Will looked at the ground, before bringing his eyes to the hypnotic gaze of Hannibal Lecter.

"...No."

"How did it feel when Garrett Jacob Hobbs took his last breath, by your hand?" Hannibal probed, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands. The air felt charged, tense with something that Will couldn't place. Not while his blood was rushing through his vein, like boiling water. He yearned to tell the truth. He'd been avoiding even thinking about what happened. Out of fear.

"How did you feel, will?" Hannibal asked gently, yet firmly. In a tone that told him that he would know if he lied. He swallowed. 

"It felt good. Thrilling." 

  
  


Hearing the words come out of his mouth was horrifying, yet he couldn't swallow them back. He didn't want to. He felt nauseous. 

"Is it easier to understand the way that others feel killing, now that you've done it yourself?" Hannibal asked, re-crossing his legs, gaze dark as coal.

Will thought about lying. His heart was pounding so hard he wouldn't be surprised if Hannibal could hear it. He felt unsettled. He wanted to lie, to not admit the things that felt that he knew were criminal, baseline animalistic. They were not normal. But he couldn't help but nod shakily under Lecter's knife sharp gaze.

"I imagine it felt novel, to know you put an end to a life that  _ was  _ inherently a menace." Hannibal purred, leaning back in his seat. 

Will nodded, breathing shakily.

"How do you think God feels whenever he kills someone?" Hannibal asked, eyes half-lidded and jaw relaxed. Will found that he couldn't look away from him, his headache gone for the moment and exhaustion evaporated as he remembered the gunshots and the collapsing of Garett Jacob Hobbs. 

"....Powerful."

Will doesn't think he's ever seen Hannibal so pleased. 

"Do you fear the feeling that you get from killing?" He asked. 

Will found that he couldn't swallow, and almost choked on emotion. 

He didn't reply. 

Hannibal shifted to the side, his fist coming up and cradling his chin up as he kept eye contact with Will. 

"Would you like for me to give you a reading?" He asked lightly. Will gave him a haunted look and scratched his beard again, fingers shaking. 

"There is nothing in the future that is that interesting for me." He said finally.

Hannibal smiled mischievously. 

"We will have to agree to disagree on that one, dear Will. I don't even have to look at cards or stones or shells to see what's in your future."

Will borrowed his brows and unconsciously shifted forward. 

"And what might that be, Legendary Diviner turned therapist?" Will asked with a shaky smile. 

Hannibal's face was dark and intense, no longer the face of a human but of something Other. It made a thrill run through Will’s spine. He spoke with a deep, sonorous voice.

" _ Divine and powerful transformation. _ " 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my work, and i hope to be back soon. Please share your thoughts and criticisms with me.


	3. Fils du destin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

It was extremely cold that evening, Wolf trap a wintery fortress of dense trees and open fields of dry grass. The winds were strong enough to knock Will over so he had to run like an idiot whenever he was out in the open.

Will was invited over to another sleep session and he didn't have it in him to reject Hannibal's offer again. He was so weary and nearly listless with exhaustion, the excess of coffee in his system making his vision stutter unpleasantly and his stomach cramped painfully. 

They quickly stopped by his home so he could take care of the dogs and pack his nightclothes. He let them all out to pee and gave them warm hugs before telling them that he wouldn't be around tonight. Most of them just looked at him with bright eyes. Winston was seemingly the only one to object at him leaving, and Will took a few more moments to comfort him. He _whined_ softly in Will's arms.

"I'll be back buddy, I promise." He whispered into his fur. Winston licked his face, puffing hotly into his ear, pulling a grin from him.

He said his goodbyes to everyone and made sure the escape paths were clear in case they needed to leave for any reason. They were all well trained and Will would be destroyed if anything happened to his little pack.

  
  


Hannibal was almost glowing with smugness as he drove them to his house. Will sat in his Bentley, marveling silently at the heated seats beneath him.

"You have many dogs, many more than I assumed." Hannibal said, his words cutting through the awkward, opera filled airspace. 

"How did you know I had dogs?" Will asked sharply, over the sound of a woman wailing mournfully, eyes drifting from the window, latching onto Hannibal's face. 

"You left some dog hair in my office, the first time you came." Hannibal replied mildly.

"Oh right." Will said, feeling a little stupid. "Yeah. I have a bad habit of taking in strays." He replied lowly, eyes returning to the dark grey sky of the late afternoon. It was going to snow. He could feel the icy chill in his bones. He was glad he left the space heater on for the dogs.

"That's interesting. You find yourself attracted to the lone and lonely and make a home for them. Is it because you see yourself in them?" Hannibal looked at him in the corner of his eye. 

"Do I see myself as a stray, no, not in the way you think." Will murdered managing to not sound as bitter and sour as he felt at the comparison.

"Found family is often much healthier than a family bound by blood. Even if they are of different species." Hannibal said. Will just grunted noncommittally. 

"I would like to meet them one day, I have a delightful recipe for dog treats. It's very healthy." Hannibal turned a corner before stopping at a light, unperturbed and not put off by Will's bad mood in the slightest. 

Hannibal was a careful driver, Will noticed. There wasn't even a moment where the car was going too fast or bumping on fallen branches.

The horizon was subdued, grey and charcoal blending with the white fog over the cars in front of them. Will could feel the inhospitable chill of the winter air, even through the thick windows and strong heat of the car. It mirrored his mood.

"They would love that. Thank you." He said, allowing himself to actually look at Hannibal, trying to keep his countenance from being outright unbearable.

Will struggled to not let his eyes drift to Hannibal's long fingers. They changed the gears of his stick shift so fluidly that once he noticed them he couldn't look away. He tried but failed miserably.

"Of course. It would be my pleasure." Hannibal said as he turned on a street filled with houses larger than Will was used to seeing. Will raised his brows as he catalogued more about the man seated next to him. 

  
  


He moodily trailed behind Hannibal, his eyes latched onto his broad back, not entirely willing to have to deal with his insomnia again. But he was desperate for sleep and was willing to sacrifice anything for it at this point. 

As they entered the house Will was stuck with two realizations. Hannibal was relatively rich. Expensive paintings decorated the walls while marble statues stood at every other corner. The lighting was tastefully moody. Hannibal switched on a sound system that made the classical music that bled through the walls sound like it was being played live. His second realization was that he may have made a terrible mistake by coming here. Hannibal's scent was so strong here that he could taste it on his tongue. The pheromones that weren't as strong in his office filled his lungs with each breath. Spicy and full of earth. Some of the anxiety and irritation that was tainting his mood eased with each inhale. Hannibal motioned to take Will's overcoat and as he was shedding the thick jacket, he was suddenly struck with a sharp sense of self-consciousness. Hannibal hung it without any commentary and Will rubbed his arms through his plaid button-down as he looked around for a distraction.

"Please have a seat, I will prepare dinner for us before we begin." Hannibal broke the silence as he took off his suit jacket and began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Will watched the muscles of Hannibal's faintly hairy forearm flex with muted strength with every movement. 

Will was suddenly pushed to acknowledge that somewhere deep inside himself, he found Hannibal attractive. In the same way a decorative, gilded sword that had once shed blood, could be. Hidden safely behind glass in a museum.

Will followed him into his kitchen, his thoughts a storm of confusion and exhaustion as he took a seat near a wooden table. Atop it was a fruit basket, expertly woven and filled past the brim. The fruit in it was so perfect looking that he had to pick it up to see if it was made of plastic or not. 

It was real.

He returned it, feeling just a little stupid.

"Is there anything you're craving in particular tonight?" Hannibal asked him, eyes trained on his face as he tied a pristine apron around his waist, quickly and methodically, not wasting even a moment. His hair was light beneath the bright lights, which made his brows and eyelashes seem lighter in color. The effect made his dark eyes that more intimidating. 

His kitchen was mostly stainless steel and dark wood, state of the art with gadgets that will couldn't identify. It was neat and clean, just like the man who owned it.

"Feeling very strong ' _eat the rich_ ' vibes right about now." Will said smiling darkly, eyeing a gilded statue of a crying woman that stood near the dining room door before pointedly staring back at Hannibal.

Hannibal gave him a startled look before letting a _dark_ , genuine laugh fill the kitchen. Will's eyebrows shot up, pleased as he realized that he had truly never heard Hannibal laugh. 

"I unfortunately only have the upper middle class to serve, you must forgive me," Hannibal said, shooting him a small grin, full of teeth and giving him a boyish look that made it possible for will to imagine him in his twenties, probably playing a sport or driving a sports car. Something about his youthful expression gave Will the craziest sense of Deja vu.

"Capitalist exploitation of the working class. _Very_ on-brand." He said, raising his brow in mock judgment. 

"You've caught me red handed, I'm afraid."

Hannibal returned to his cooking prep with a smile as if were amused with an inside joke. Will took the time to let his eyes wash over his features and try to understand why he kept finding Hannibal _so_ familiar. This was driving him insane.

Hannibal was slicing a slab red meat, each movement full of grace measured force, his expression falling into a perfect picture of meditative focus.

"Have we ever met before?" He heard himself ask. Hannibal looked up sharply. He paused his cutting before picking it backup as he responded.

"Not that I can clearly recall but it is possible. I've been in Baltimore for just over 20 years, we could have run into each other while shopping." He crouched out of vision for a moment before coming back up with a silver bowl. "Why do you ask?" He asked, the question sounding deceptively casual.

For some reason that explanation didn't sit right. Beyond the fact that he's sure he would never shop at any of the places Hannibal did. Certainly not if his taste was as expensive as it looked. He couldn't really imagine a person like Hannibal ever truly forgetting an encounter with someone he'd met. He was far too esoteric.

"Hm." Will hummed noncommittally, aware of the calculative look trained on him. He tapped his fingers against his knee as he zeroed his gaze onto Hannibal's working hands.

"You just seem very familiar to me. I find myself having moments of _Deja Vu_ when I'm around you." 

Hannibal just smiled and said nothing as he continued chopping the meat in his hands. 

Will watches him cook, his knife sliding through potatoes and carrot and the meat cooking in red wine. Soon the kitchen was filled with the delicious smell of cooking and honestly Will was feeling almost faint with hunger. He'd only had some frozen French toast sticks that morning and it was already 7p.m. His stomach cramped cruelly reminding him of this fact, growling angrily beneath his shirt. 

Will doesn't know how long Hannibal had been cooking but he found himself drifting off to the sounds of cooking and the warm scent of stew and _Alpha_. He felt ridiculously safe and cozy in his wooden seat. A while later, Hannibal touched his shoulder and Will looked up at him.

"Come, you are ahead of the plan. I've set out dinner in the dining room." He said with a small smile. 

" _Shit_ , sorry about that." Will stood and stretched, as he followed Hannibal. "So what's for dinner?" 

" _Boeuf_ _Bourguignon_ , a beef stew made with cremini mushrooms and Cognac." Hannibal's dining table was long, made of heavy looking dark wood. The table setting was intricate, pomegranate and figs scattered across white cloth.

Will raised his eyebrows as he took his seat across the table. Hannibal seated himself with such poise and control that Will felt like a clumsy toddler in comparison. He ignored that and looked at his meal. It smelled heavenly, with a fresh, thick slice of French bread right beside a full bowl of stew.

"Smells good." He said, glancing up at his host. Hannibal was watching him closely and it was after a few moments that Will realized he was waiting on him to start. 

He took his spoon and scooped up a bit of potato, mushroom, and beef before putting it into his mouth. Will furrowed his brow in concentration for a moment, chewing slowly as he savored the taste. He could feel Hannibal's tension across the long table. 

"It's... it's probably the best stew I've ever put into my mouth," Will admitted after swallowing. It was true, the richness from the garlic and slight sweetness from the wine combined with the earthy flavors of the mushrooms was an intoxicating combination. He had to force himself to eat slowly and not like a starved animal. He's not sure Hannibal would find a display like that tasteful. Maybe he'd find it funny, Will thought tiredly.

Hannibal visibly relaxed and smiled at him, eyes dark beads of satisfaction from across the room. 

"Good, I'm glad you find it pleasing." 

Will took a few more savory bites of his stew before asking him a question.

"Where did you learn to cook? I thought you were a surgeon before you picked up psychiatry?"

"That is true, I was a surgeon, but when I put down the scalpel, I picked up the knife to express myself. What better way than making art in the kitchen? It is soothing and refreshingly meditative." 

Will chuckled. "Well I can't blame you for calling it art, this is the only kind of art appreciation I can say I'm good at." At this Hannibal chuckled at him. 

"I'm not even kidding. I don't even like stew but I could happily eat this for the rest of my life." Hannibal's face softened at the compliment, pride sliding through his expression like waves on a shore.

"I would be willing to indulge you _anytime_ you like. I'm sure you'd enjoy more than my stew." Will smiled softly at that. 

"I'd love that."

They enjoyed their meal but the longer they ate, Will's usual constant headache increased in size and strength until his eyes blurred with every few blinks. He blinked rapidly before setting down his utensils.

"Will? Is there something the matter?" Hannibal asked, also putting down his utensils.

"Yeah, I've just- god I've just got the _worst_ headache. You wouldn't happen to have any ibuprofen laying around would you?" Will quickly stood and found the world tilting slowly. He leaned against the table and felt his hand knock into a wine glass. It fell and shattered into many crystalline pieces. He felt _nauseous_. He breathed deeply before grabbing his head tightly as the pain sharpened. 

Hannibal suddenly appeared beside him and he jumped. He shifted his eyes to Hannibal and found mild concern on his features. His eyes were dark pools filled with nothing Will could recognize in his pain. Will tried to take a step away from the table and he felt his knees fold. Hannibal grabbed him tightly before sliding a strong arm around his shoulders. He held will up and Will tasted his panic in the back of his throat.

"I have a special tea that I meant to give you later to sleep but i'll give it to you now. It has pain-relieving properties so it should help." Hannibal said calmly, leading him back into the kitchen. 

Will couldn't even bother thinking about the familiarity in which Hannibal held him, he couldn't stop himself from leaning on him as they walked. God, he could barely _think_ with the thrumming pain in his head. He rubbed his hand along his face and grit his teeth against a moan of pain as they walked beneath the harsh light of the kitchen. Hannibal sat him on a barstool and pulled out a tea kettle and prepared the tea. Will closed his eyes and put his head in his hands and tried to breathe through the sharp throbs of pain.

He was fine 40 minutes ago and he was used to headaches, which were admittedly growing in strength with each day but this was new. Every rough shift of his clothing against his suddenly sensitive skin made him feel like his head was about to split into two. 

"Here you are, drink this." Hannibal put a cup before him. Will put his hands down and looked at the cup. It was a tiny floral teacup holding a reddish, golden liquid that was slightly milky. Will picked it up and looked at Hannibal who was leaning against the counter, a dish towel thrown casually over his forearm and with a laser focus on Will. Will was pale from the pain and almost looked like he was dazed as he reached for the cup. 

  
  


"What's in it?" He asked groggily, the words crawling sluggishly past his lips. It sounded like he gargled cement.

"A mixture of medicinal herbs with properties that encourage restful sleep, along with honey, lavender, and hibiscus." He said. Will looked into the cup skeptically before downing it. It tasted pleasant enough but with a sharp aftertaste that left him grimacing in revulsion.

"Let's move upstairs. I have a guest room waiting for you. You can have a shower and..." Hannibal's voice sounded further and further away as Will's vision blurred violently and the corners of his eyes began darkening. Will tried to stand up but quickly found himself looking up at Hannibal, his head haloed by the fluorescent lights behind him. His pupils were widely dilated, making his eyes nearly black. Will had fallen but he didn't feel the impact. There was no pain. Hannibal's lips were moving but Will couldn't hear him, not over the ringing of his ears. 

He blinked once more, then lost time.

He had moments of awareness, the feeling of being carried bridal style, the climb upstairs making him sway ever so slightly, like a boat leaving the shore and the strong arms that cradled him were the tide.

He heard Hannibal's deep voice rumbling to him soothingly yet he couldn't understand the words. The syrupy taste of honey in his mouth was strong and he had the strangest feeling that he was talking back. 

Will leaned into Hannibal's body, put his nose into the crook of Hannibal's neck as he tightened his arms around his neck. He inhaled deeply before relaxing. Hannibal's arms curled protectively around him as Will finally lost consciousness. 

***

Will woke the next morning warm and in a bed that was distinctly not his. 

He found himself dressed in his pajamas and tucked into the softest bed he had ever been in. Confusion and nausea set in as he stretched his legs across the satin sheets and tried to piece together where he was and how he got there. Hannibal's very recognizable scent of pine, smoke, and pomegranate was all over him, so strong that he was sure that he'd be smelling of him for days no matter the number of showers. He didn't remember anything after his headache last night and the sleeping tea he was served. The taste of honey sat faintly in the back of his throat. 

The heavy curtains were keeping any light from entering the room and he couldn't tell what time it was. He slid out of bed sluggishly and peeked past the thick fabric. The sun shone brightly, it's position in the sky was high enough that Will knew it was almost noon. God, did he sleep in? He hadn't slept that deeply in God knows how long. He genuinely felt a little refreshed. 

The biggest and most important thing about it was he had zero recollection of any nightmares. Will was cautiously elated at the prospect of no longer having to have a spiritual _death_ every time he went to bed.

He searched around the room, opening and closing the armoires but couldn't find his clothing. With a furrowed brow, stepped into the darkened hallway, uneasy at the fact that he had no recollection of statues or the rich, deep red paint that colored the walls. He drifted around until he found the way downstairs and was met with the rich scent of bacon, eggs, and heavenly coffee.

He walked silently into the kitchen, extremely aware that he was in an unmated Alphas house, barefooted, hair a curly mess while hid in pajamas. The very picture of omegan vulnerability and _indecency_ . He tried to not think about it too hard. It wasn't like _that_ with Hannibal, he thought to himself as he peered into the kitchen.

Hannibal stood inside, his back to him as he leaned over a plate with careful concentration. Sunlight flooded the kitchen, forcing Will to squint. 

"Good morning Will, I trust you are feeling better this morning?" Hannibal said before Will had the chance to even open his mouth. 

He turned around, his eyes raking over Will's form slowly before landing on his face, a pleased, almost smug smile on his lips.

Will felt _embarrassed_ at the inspection, his cheeks flushing under the heavy gaze. He looked away. 

"Morning. I actually slept well, but I can't seem to remember going to bed." He said as he walked closer to Hannibal, curious to what he was doing. 

Hannibal handed him a plate that had delicious smelling scrambled eggs and bacon with toast. 

"Oh you shouldn't have, I was just going to ask for my clothes and get out of your hair."

"Nonsense. None of my guests leave my home hungry." Hannibal replied, eyebrow quirked, still holding the plate out.

"Do you usually have many guests?" Will asked impulsively. It was absolutely none of his business but he couldn't find it in himself to regret asking. Hannibal gave him a _sly_ look.

"Only ever so often." He said cryptically. Will snorted, rolling his eyes. He took the plate.

"Let's get to eating then, Jack's probably going to call any moment.

"Very likely."

"So what happened last night? My memory is foggy at best." At that Hannibal simply looked at him, face expressionless. Will frowned.

"You complained of a headache and I gave you pain-relieving tea. You suffered from a _petite malaise_ and fainted but you were in and out of consciousness. You asked for your night clothes, I retrieved them for you and you dressed yourself before climbing into bed. You seemed _very_ lucid before I left you to sleep."He said calmly, watching Will carefully.

At this admission Wills brows pulled together tightly. He remembered not a single moment after drinking the tea. He didn't want to be paranoid but it was difficult to believe 

"You don't remember?" Hannibal asked part intrigued and part concerned. Will shook his head as his jaw twitched in anxiety. Maybe he was sleepwalking. He had to have been.

"You were very tired and the medicine would have been in full effect by then," Hannibal said comfortingly. "I must add that due to the strength of the concoction, I will only give it to you in a safe and controlled setting where I can observe you closely." He said seriously. 

Will pressed his lips together but simply nodded as they both walked to the dining room, his stomach clenched in sudden anxiety. 

They had breakfast together along with fancy French coffee that was freshly brewed and pressed and that tasted heavenly. Will regretted bringing his phone when it rang shrilly in his coat pocket. Something in his gut told him that it was Jack and he didn't really want to burst the tiny bubble of comfort he had with Hannibal for the first time in maybe years. But he had to. 

"That's probably Jack." He sighed regretfully, moving towards the coat hanger, leaving the rest of his breakfast behind.

"A shame. Jack often turns you into a carpenter who crafts his own coffin." Hannibal said easily. The skin around his eyes was tight with displeasure. 

"You may be right but somebody's gotta do it. Rather it were me. Everyone would it seems." Will sighed again as he viewed the caller ID. Yup, it was Jack.

"Not exactly everyone I would say." Hannibal said as he stood, abandoning his incomplete meal.

He picked up the call just as Hannibal disappeared from sight. Jack needed him, said all the bodies were in the lab, ready for inspection. Will told him he was on his way.

As he hung up the call, Hannibal approached him with his clothes, freshly laundered and neatly folded. His irritation was _extremely_ subtle but Will could smell it on his scent, bleeding around him.

"No rest for the wicked." Will said, waving his phone.

Will gave him an apologetic look as he took the clothes. Hannibal loomed over him silently for a moment, his eyes blank and _flat_ . He was standing far too close and Will had to plant his feet in place to not instinctively step back. He blanched at the suddenly very _alpha_ like behavior Hannibal was exhibiting. 

"Allow me to take you to work. Give me your house keys and I will feed your dogs before I go to work." Hannibal asked in a tone that wasn't really asking. His accent was much stronger in the morning, will realize distantly as he came impossibly closer to him. They stood _so_ close to each other that Will's bare toes were almost touching Hannibal's leather loafers. 

His face was inscrutable as his humorless eyes roamed Wills gradually reddening face. Will felt like he was going to combust from the heat gradually building within his stomach and chest.

" _Uh_ yeah, thanks." He stuttered, nerves shot. He moved backward slowly, his clothing clutched tightly in his hands as he tried to keep himself composed under the sharp, _relentless_ scrutiny of Hannibal Lecter. 

Hannibal allowed his mouth to tick upward into a half smile and led him to the guest bathroom before leaving Will with scattered thoughts, shaking hands, and rapidly beating heart. 

***

Will was in the lab not 40 minutes later, Hannibal dropped him off like a mother dropping off her child for soccer practice. His actions in his home earlier were borderline rude, forceful, and under normal circumstances, enough fuel to _piss_ Will off. But all he felt was a humiliating sense of comfort and protection at Hannibal's protective and bossy nature. Hannibal was calm and polite as usual in the car ride, asking him questions about the mushroom case. 

"He's in search of a connection. One that he is incapable of, unlike the _mycelium_." Hannibal theorized. Will could unfortunately relate to that.

Even while he walked around the lab, cold cup of coffee in hand, Will couldn't help but wonder incredulously as to why Hannibal would _posture_ at him the way he did. Not even the mushroom ladened bodies were distraction enough.

Zeller and Price were going back and forth, Zeller teasing the omega about his weakness to alcohol while Jimmy tried to explain how alcoholics had a weakened endocrine system. He then mentioned something about how they died of kidney failure.

This caught Will's attention. 

" _They were diabetics_.” He interjected all of a sudden. “Death by diabetic keto-acidosis”

Everyone stared at him.

"How did you know they were diabetic?" Beverly asked, removing her hands from a victim's corpse. 

"We don't they aren't-"

"No, they all are." Will cuts off. Zeller _glared_ at him, annoyance at Will bubbling to the surface. Will ignored him. "He induces a coma and puts them in the ground."

"But how does he induce the coma?" 

"He changes their medication. _Likely_ works in healthcare, a pharmacist."

"So he induces the coma, puts them in the dirt and then feeds them sugar to keep them alive." She said quickly as understanding began to dawn on everyone. Beverly couldn't stop the smile crawling on her lips. Will nodded, the pieces began to fall together in his mind. 

"The sugar feeds the mushrooms," Jimmy added.

"And we dug up his mushroom garden." Zeller added, his prior irritation washing away with realization. Will nodded again, uneasy at the implication.

"Yeah he's going to grow a new one." Will said numbly, any remainder of his good mood completely wiped away. 

***

There indeed was no rest for the wicked, Will thought as he was herded between FBI agents that were armed and in full tactical gear. They descended upon the supermarket like starving locusts onto fertile crop, rushing down the freezing aisles straight to the pharmacy. Will's headache had grown twice fold since he'd left Hannibal's residence and spiked _sharply_ whenever Jack shouted.

Jack had explained how they found the perp, that this was the tenth diabetic that went missing after picking up their insulin. Will's stomach churned unpleasantly. 

Will clenched his teeth as Jack began _shouting_ again, asking for the whereabouts of Stammets. The pharmacists were scared and shaking with their hands up. 

The one near the front looked ready to piss himself. 

"Eldon was right here a moment ago." He stuttered out, confused at the officers running around. 

"His car. Where's the _car_?" Will breathed out as he quickly realized that Stammets was possibly escaping that very moment.

They rushed to the parking lot, the frightened pharmacist frantically pointing to a darkly colored car that was parked innocently beneath the dim lights of the garage. Will asked the nearest agent for his baton. He unfolded the baton with practiced ease pulled back, striking the glass of the driver's side window with the metal end.

The glass shattered and he reached his arm in to open the trunk. He rushed to the boot and stumbled backward, the scent of decay and pig shit hitting him in waves. Jack was right behind him as he reached in and pulled a blond woman out of the dirt. 

"I need EMT's _NOW_!" Jack bellowed as Will gently brushed the dirt out of the woman's partially closed eyes.

Zeller rushed up to them, a strange concerned look on his face that had Will sighing when his eyes flickered to him.

"There's something you need to see."

Will's already astronomical headache takes to new heights as learns of his newest problem. Red curls and shrewd eyes calling him a lunatic for the world to see.

Freddie _fucking_ Lounds.

***

Will dissociates for most of the day and takes aspirin he bums off a pharmacist who gives him a strange look. He ignored it.

He followed the EMTs to make sure the woman, Gretchen, would be fine. The nurses reassured him that she would be fine and he gave them space. 

He used the visit as an excuse to visit Abigail's room. She said in her bed, a small pale thing surrounded by tubes and gently beeping heart monitors and a ventilator. Her gentle alpha scent filled the room along with the strong scent of disinfectant. His head hurt _terribly_.

He took a seat on the ugly peach couch near her bed and looked at her. Her small hands limp and pale, intravenous needles poked into her arms and her tired face slack in her unconsciousness. He doesn't know exactly when he falls asleep and he's not certain that what hees experiencing is a dream.

Loud, slow hoof steps on the hospital tile, echoing in the hospital. He sees a massive black stag walk in front of the room, leaving black feathers behind it. Will stands slowly. The corridor is darkened and the hospital is empty. Even Abigail no longer rested in her bed. He stepped into the hallway and saw the stag, walking slowly away. Dirt and blood tracks behind it with every thunderous step. Dark whispers fill his psyche as the hallway lights flicker around him before turning off. 

He blinks awake, following the whispers into consciousness. The scent of clean soap ,thyme and roses meets his nose. _Alpha_. He sat up and a thin blanket fell off of him. Alana bloom sat across from him, reading out of a book, gently to Abigail and Will just stared at her.

"You're reading." He stated, Alana's beautiful brown hair falling over her shoulder as she turned to him, instantly closing the book. She gives him an awkward smile.

_"Flannery O' Connor."_

"Could be reading to a killer." Will said, voice rough with sleep, probing, looking for a reaction. 

"Innocent until proven guilty and all that, you know," she says, waving her hand around. 

Will laid his head back down and watched her silently, unsure if he was still dreaming or awake.

"I'm about to broach the ‘takes one to know one clause’..."

"Oh _right_ , that one. Did Jack send you?" He asked

Alana turns her body around to him fully, her skin clear and healthy. Her scent became stronger with the motion. Will could practically feel his eyes dilate in reaction.

"I sent me." She said softly, her posture unaggressive and approachable. Her face was open and honest. She really was _beautiful_ , Will thought. 

"You know, I don't think we've ever been in a room alone together, have we." He noticed, sensing her extreme awkwardness accompanying their solitude. Was she avoiding him? He couldn't really blame her if that _were_ the case.

"I mean technically we aren't _really_ alone," she motioned to Abigail laying in her bed. Will felt a bubble of amusement at this. 

"Oh right." He allowed. "Back to ' _Jack Crawford's crime gimp_ '." He sat up straight, allowing the blanket to pool at his waist. Her sharp eyes followed the movement. 

"That paints an _interesting_ picture." She teased. He just looked at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to talk about it." She tried to reassure.

" _No_ _no_ , We can talk about or not talk about whatever you want." He said quickly.

She looked at him attentively, eyebrows raised. 

"Actually... I was just enjoying _uh_ , listening to you read." He added, swallowing ever so slightly. Her eyes dropped to his throat. She looked down into her lap. 

"Abigail Hobbs was a success for you." She said, finally looking up at him again. At the sound of her name, Will looked at her, her neck red with burst blood vessels trying to heal. They climbed up her throat like red roots on a tree made of ivory. 

"She doesn't _look_ like a success. " he whispered as he stared at her, something twinging sadly in his chest at the sight of her.

"Don't feel sorry for yourself for _saving_ this girl's life." Alana said, not anticipating hist response. Will rubbed his face, digging into his eyes with his palms. 

"I _don't_ . I don't feel sorry for myself at _all_." Which was the truth. He felt sorry for not being good enough, for almost not saving her. But he wasn't sorry that she was alive.

"I, uh...I..." Will frowned at his knee, trying to scrounge up any and all positive emotions he could to try to convince himself when he spoke.

"I....I _feel_ um...good." His expression pinched at the effort and he let out a slight huff.

Alana just beamed at him.

***

Will went home that night under a light blanket of snow. He missed his dogs terribly and they barked happily though the windows as he approached.

He hopped out of the car and rushed to his door. The second the door was open he was covered from head to toe in warm _dog_. He hugged them and pressed his face into warm fur with a breath of relief. He was being licked constantly and from all angles. Will couldn't help the weak laugh that escaped him. Winston stood and barked at him, the only one who wasn't on top of him but he was panting and wagging his tail happily close by. Will pet his head. He missed his family.

"C'mon everyone, let's get some dinner yeah?"

He set out all of the dog bowls and fed them all, only to realize that he didn't have any food in the house. He solemnly thought about Hannibal's stew as he ordered a pizza.

***

  
  


Will had a very simple day planned, he thought bitterly as he panted roughly, running out of the elevator and pushing past nurses and doctors alike. He was going to visit Abigail, to see if she woke up yet and give her company if she hadn't, go food shopping, and then go fishing if there was enough sunlight for it.

But now he was rushing to have Abigail's life because _Eldon Stammets_ , the utter fucking lunatic, decided that Will needed to connect with Abigail Hobbs by _burying her in the fucking dirt_ . Will was beyond enraged. He could barely see as he stormed down the corridors, ignoring the objections of the employees and the confused looks people sent him. His heart pounded irregularly. He wanted _blood_ . Will launched himself down another hallway and saw Eldon, dressed in scrubs and shoving _his_ unconscious Abigail down in a stretcher. Will pulled out his gun shakily and aimed. 

Then aimed again, _lower_ and to the side, and shot him in the shoulder. He rushed to Abigail, made sure she was alright before turning his attention to the wounded man on the ground. He kicked Eldon's gun away.

"What were you going to do with her?" He snarled, pointing his gun at him, heart racing. 

"We all evolve from _mycelium_ ," he wheezed, breath shaking in pain. "I was just going to reintroduce her to that concept."

"By buying her alive?" Will seethed, more present in that moment than he had been in months.

"The journalist said you understood me."

"I _don't_." Will spat out.

"You would have. _You would have_."

Revulsion filled him as Eldon looked up at him pleadingly, reaching for understanding, comradery from Will. Understanding he didn't have for him.

***

Will found himself in Hannibal's office hours later, his mind blissfully empty after Law enforcement took Eldon away. Abigail was back where she belonged. 

"Who did you see as you shot Eldon?" Hannibal asked from his seat behind him. Will was facing a wall, staring at it blankly. He didn't feel like going to the upper floor today.

"I didn't see Hobbs." Will let out, his head aching so much all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. But he needed to see Hannibal.

"It's not Hobbs ghost that haunts you, is it? It is the fear that there exists a man that is so _bad_ that killing him feels too _good_." Will said nothing in return. 

"Did you want to Kill Eldon, Will?"

Will blinked twice before closing his eyes, his breath escaping him as a shudder. He swallowed. 

"I'm not... entirely sure that wasn't my goal when I shot at him." He admitted weakly.

"If your intention was to kill him it was because you understood him and why he did what he did. That understanding is beautiful in its own way." Hannibal said calmly. Will turned around with furrowed brows to look at him.

Will felt sick. He reached for a chair before shakily sitting down. 

"I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in _Louisiana_ ." He said tiredly, his arms sore from shooting and his eyes tender to the lights. He probably wouldn't have to _fungi_ obsessed serial killers in the bayou. Only hilariously angry drunks. Maybe it wasn't too late to go back. 

"An engine is a machine, with predictable problems and _easy_ to solve." Hannibal motioned with his hands in the air. Will leaned forward in his seat, his hands grasping at his knees. He somehow knew what Hannibal would bring up before he even opened his mouth.

"You have not yet fully come to terms with killing Hobbs. You have not accepted how you truly feel. You must be entirely honest with yourself so you may move forward." Hannibal observed as he moved to sit in the chair before him. 

"You refuse to think about it outside of this office, you avoid things that relate to Hobbs yet you do not reject Abigail." Wills' knuckles were white with strain, his hands clamped over his knees.

"Abigail isn't... isn't her father." He said shakily, his eyes fluttering closed. His head was pounding and he felt too _hot_. Hannibal said nothing. 

"I liked killing Hobbs." Will admitted slowly, his voice a whisper in the room, as if someone were trying to steal his secret away. Hannibal leaned forward and stared into Will Graham's desolate, _widely_ blown eyes and saw fear, confusion, and _hunger_ residing within. 

"This is new for you, as you do not have a history of violence. A part of you that had been hidden and lying dormant, waiting." Hannibal's voice was like warm honey, sweet, and heady. Hannibal's presence to Will was like a promise, a promise that would never be broken, a promise of understanding regardless of the facets Will showed with every turn of his mind. Will distantly wondered when he would find the limit.

Hannibal tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. He watched Will, his slightly shaking form, the paleness of his skin, and the glistening sweat starting to form at his temples. He stood abruptly, shocking Will out of whatever state of mind he was in and forcing him back into his chair. He gave Will a light smile that didn't truly reach his eyes. He readjusted the

the lapel of his suit and offered Will a hand. 

Will looked up at him, searching his face and noticing the greys in his hair that we're caught by the lights above. He put his hand in his after a moment of hesitation. 

"Let me treat you to Lunch. We've done quite enough for today."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently looking for a beta reader, if anyone has any recommendations, please let me know!


	4. La Grande Prêtresse inversée

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the biggest chapter to date. Please find a beverage or snack before settling in :)

Will had a stalker. He doesn't know when or where he picked one up but he was 99 percent certain that his life is no longer solitary. 

The first time he noticed anything was when he came home from a late class . He was tired, wound up after the flashing lights of his PowerPoint and starting at the pictures of mutilated corpses. His head was aching in time with his heartbeat and he wanted to go to bed. He arrived home, the sun battling against the heavy grey clouds that covered the sky like a damp blanket. The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was that the dogs were irritable, visibly upset and he had no idea why. He fed them, comforted them, and let them outside to play. But instead of playing, they did the most peculiar thing. 

They followed a trail that Will couldn't see, through the field of dry grass and into the marshy dirt behind his home. A faint scent abandoned by someone that Will couldn't quite pick up in the cold but could sense. It led from his back porch, down the slight hill in the backyard, down to the rushing river where he usually fished. The dogs were restless and Winston, the calmest dog out of the pack, was angrily barking up a storm the entire time. Will stood in place and carefully scrutinized the spot. It was cold, almost freezing but he couldn't bring himself to ignore his dogs. His intuition told him that there was something he was missing as he meandered toward the river. Will was about to chalk it up as the dogs being stir crazy until he saw it. 

Near the riverbank, beside the few belongings that Will left there for fishing, was a boot print, brand spanking new and 3 sizes too large to be Will’s. 

Will lived out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He did that on purpose, so he didn't have to deal with nosy neighbors, and so he didn't have to deal with the noise complaint about his dogs. 

So finding the dogs so perturbed and wound up and then being led to a fresh boot print, left him feeling deeply uncomfortable. 

The second thing that he noted was the constant feeling of being watched. Will was an empath, sensitive to human emotions, and energies. He was also  _ very _ familiar with the sensation of being watched, picked apart like a puzzle with eyes after a long history of therapists, journalists, and cops breathing down his neck. 

When he wasn't enclosed in a building, he could feel the heavyweight of eyes watching him. It was making him testy, jumpy, and insanely paranoid. Everyone around him began giving him a wide berth because of his irritation. But he doesn't mention it to anyone. Not yet.

It's the day that he received a letter in his locked car, unsigned and in pristine condition that he's ruffled enough to tell someone about it. 

Hannibal invited him to his home for what Will has taken to calling them ' _ sleep sessions _ '. This amused Hannibal greatly every time Will referred to them as such.

He agreed, rushed home to feed the dogs while also keeping and eye out for anything out of place while he's there. Will secured the locks and watched the shadows. His hair was standing the entire time. He was being quietly observed.

He drove to Hannibal's house with the letter unopened and in a baggie on the passenger seat. He was nervous. He parked on Hannibal's driveway at the oddest angle, nerves making him careless. He almost forgot to pull the keys out of his ignition before leaving the car. He was a ball of anxiety, perspiration beading on his face, even through the icy breeze. 

Will was terrified, because the feeling of being watched followed him to Hannibal's home and he couldn't see any car trailing him. Maybe he was simply losing his goddamn mind. 

Hannibal opened the door with his usual faint smile and stepped aside to let him in. Will rushed by him silently. Hannibal raised his brow at the unusual behavior.

"Are you-" Hannibal cut himself off as he absorbed Will's expression. His small smile dropped into a line as the skin between his brows tightened. Will had no idea what his face looked like but he could assume. Fear and anxiety bled through his expression. 

"I-I'm good. We can talk about it after dinner." Will said, walking further into Hannibal's home, eagerly breathing the Alphas scent in.

He wanted to move past the urgent feeling of anxiety and stress that was killing his head. Hannibal frowned but didn't push.

"Very well." 

Will pushed off his coat shakily and put it in Hannibal's patiently waiting hands. Will is the first to enter the kitchen, the sharp yet saccharine scent of his  _ sleeping tea _ hit him as he entered. He repressed the urge grimace like a child seeing cough medicine.

Hannibal made them seared lamb chops with roasted figs and a sweet yet tart cranberry sauce. He also apparently made Will a cheesecake for dessert after he found out that the omega had a wicked sweet tooth. It was solely through Will's determination that stopped him from tearing up at the delicate smoothness and tart sweetness of the cheesecake. He didn't object when he was led to Hannibal's den and sat before a fireplace with his tea and dessert. 

They sat together in companionable silence but Will knew Hannibal was waiting patiently for him to explain the condition he was in when he arrived. Will finished his dessert and put the dainty plate and fork aside, before he pulled out the envelope with a sigh. 

"I have a stalker." He said outright. Hannibal's head snapped to him and for the first time since they'd met, Will felt apprehension toward the Alpha. Hannibal's scent grew around them with his sharp anger and violent  _ hostility  _ tainted it. Will froze, his instincts pinning him to his seat while his heart ran a mile a minute. 

Hannibal noticed of course and crossed his legs and flexed his fingers almost minutely before speaking. 

"Are you certain? What makes you think so?" He asked, casually, but his eyes were dark coals, reflecting the flames in the fireplace and his icy anger. 

"Came home and found the dogs upset. They led me to some boot prints near my home. I don't have neighbors that close." Will explained casually, as if he wasn't sweating beneath his collar. Hannibal gave him an apologetic look before reigning in his scent a little, making it easier to breathe. Will's mind was still racing at the residual scent of fire, smoke and burning wood swirling around him. Hannibal was furious. That was a normal reaction of a concerned friend, Will reasoned. 

"Perhaps it is just a wanderer or perhaps someone with ill intent toward your property. A thief." Will found himself already shaking his head no. 

"I'd think so too, if not for this letter I found in my car today after I got out of class." Will handed the envelope to Hannibal. Hannibal sat up straight, body moving stiffly as he opened the white envelope. Inside was a picture. 

A picture of Will in fact, standing in his kitchen clad only in thin boxer briefs, while his head was tilted backward, angling pizza into his mouth. His dark eyes were closed and his skin pale under the light of his kitchen. The photographer was obviously close by, no noticeable use of zoom. Close enough to see, if Will were aware of his presence. Close enough to harm, if they so choose. Hannibal's fingers tightened on the photograph for a moment, crumpling it slightly before relaxing his hand. He looked at the picture for a few more moments before returning it back to Will. 

"Did you scan for any fingerprints?" Hannibal asked mildly. Will nodded slowly, holding his teacup lightly between his lax fingers. Hannibal stared at them for a moment, the long and calloused digits seemed delicate, even though wear and tear of fishing and handling dogs. Will was a remarkable specimen in Hannibal's eyes. An omega through and through and yet, one of the toughest beings he had ever met. Made of iron and hardwood, resilient. Hannibal could hardly wait until he broke him into pieces and rebuilt him for himself. 

"Checked in the lab after my class today. Came up clean. Probably used gloves." Will drawled, his words beginning to slur lightly around the edges as the effects of the tea kicked in. 

Hannibal breathed in deeply, then exhaled slowly.

"This is quite troubling Will, you must tell Jack Crawford to give you at least an FBI escort-" At this suggestion, Will picked up his head and looked at him with wide eyes. The bright blue of them reflected the fear and alarm that came from inwards. 

"N-No, absolutely not. I don't want to bring Jack into it. He'll overreact. I'll be fine " he said unconvincingly. Hannibal frowned deeply at his words. Before he could really push the argument, Will's eyes had fluttered shut. His pale skin was glowing amber in the fireplace's glow and Hannibal reached out to take the teacup from Will's unfurling hands before it fell. Wills brows twitched at the movement but he did not wake. 

This news was not good. If dear Will had a stalker that meant Hannibal was incapable of continuing on with his plans. He couldn't allow this mysterious variable to put a dent in his plans, no. He was forcing Hannibal's hand. The alpha sighed lightly as he stood and returned the cutlery before checking on Will.

He knelt before him, pulled up his eyelids, and angled his head until he could see his widened pupils. Wills skin was flushed  _ gorgeously  _ from the light of the fireplace, his plump red lips shining with tea in the warm light of the fireplace. He was a classic study in beauty, the most recent subject in his daydreams and sketches. His hand travelled through Will's wild curls, delectably soft curls. Maybe he would make him grow them out, longer, later on.

Hannibal accidentally allowed his pheromones to slip freely, the scent of his desire thick in the air, and Will responded subconsciously, shifting his head further into his palm, and his scent, even while mostly masked by suppressants, changed ever so slightly in response, his desire echoed faintly. It made Hannibal almost feverish with want. He gave his unconscious omega a smile with entirely too much teeth before tucking his nose tightly against Will's neck, inhaling deeply. There, faintly was the slight scent of clean rushing water, down a mountain and into freezing fresh-water lakes. Something entirely pure yet remarkably unholy in its potential. Made just for him. Only for him. 

" _ My beautiful boy _ ." He murmured reverently into the warm, supple flesh. He was nearly lost in the fantasy of opening his mouth and biting down deeply, sinking and sucking at the pale flesh until he was marked as Hannibal’s to the world. Will mumbled in his sleep and Hannibal leaned his head back before reaching for the flashlight he put closeby. No, not yet. Hannibal was nothing if not a patient man. He would continue his work, his art, regardless of anyone or anything that tried to stand in his way. He would not be stopped, not after all this time, this effort, and the soon to be a rebirth of his lovely subjects true self. He would sooner cut them  _ down  _ and serve them to his future mate.

"Let us begin my dear.".

***

Will went home the next morning, long before the sun rose, carrying a headache the size of the moon.

He pulled up to his home, dogs waking at the loud sound of his worn breaks. They barked and chirped happily at him as he locked the door behind him. He pulled out the ceramic Tupperware Hannibal had given him, full of warm crepes and fruit with a fresh cream topping, garnished with frosted sugar. Hannibal gave it to him as he came down the stairs, ready and dressed in a thick robe with a small smile on his lips. Will wondered how Hannibal knew when he was awake but chalked it up to the Alpha's sharp senses being hyper aware of another person in his home.Will undressed and brought the space heater to the kitchen. The dogs gathered around his feet, restful and content.

Will ate and slowly, noisily savoring the sweet, delicate notes of the crepe and it's cream, and wondered if he should give Hannibal a gift. He'd been so gracious to will and kind, he had to figure something out. The dogs ears suddenly perked and Winston stood with a growl. At that, Will stood as well and peeked outside his window warily.

Alana Bloom was climbing out of her car. Will furrowed his brow as he walked to his porch to meet her. The sun was out, her chocolate brown hair glowing under the golden sunlight. She gave him an awkward smile as she approached. Will was confused, apprehensive yet relieved it wasn't his stalker making himself known. 

"Didn't hear you pull up." He said cautiously, wondering what Alana bloom of all people was doing at his place this early in the morning. 

" _ Hybrid _ . Great car for stalking." She said. Her use of the word made Will's brows shoot up. Huh.

"Um, I'm compelled to go cover myself." He said as he was suddenly aware of his thighs sticking out of his boxers. Alana's eyes shot to them before attempting to look him in the eyes.

"I have omegan brothers."

"Well, I'll put one on just the same." He insisted. "Want a cup of coffee? And more immediately,  _ why are you here _ ?" He asked bluntly. 

A mélange of the biting cold on his skin, anxiety from his stalker and her added awkwardness, fed into his irritation. He walked back towards his house. 

"Yes, and Abigail Hobbs woke up." She said loudly, stopping him in place. 

Will stumbled slightly before turning to her quickly.

"Well, you know how to bury the lead." He intoned. She observed carefully with her icy blue eyes.

"Want me to get you a coffee?" She asked.

"No, I want to get my coat." Will bit out sharply. Alana walked forward with a determined set to her jaw. 

"Let's have a cup of coffee." The alpha insisted. Will knew she was no longer asking. He repressed a sigh before letting her in. He let the dogs out as she took a seat.

He put on the coffee and cleared up the table. Alana gave the food he was eating a curious look. He put the leftovers in his fridge, looking forward to eating them after- whatever this was- was over. 

She sat patiently at the table as Will's mind was trying to process the information he was suddenly given. 

Abigail was awake. Did she remember anything? Was she upset? Was she sacred? God, he could hate her for all he knows, he killed her father after all. His stomach cramped. 

When the coffee was done brewing, he handed Alana a cup before sitting with his own mug. His coffee wasn't the greatest, it was terrible actually , but Alana politely sipped it without a word of complaint. 

His house phone rang behind her. She looked at him. He saw the caller ID and returned to his coffee. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. Then his cell phone vibrated. Jack Crawford was stubbornly insistent. Will had enough experience with Alphas to ignore it with ease.

"You think he's going to keep calling?" Will pondered aloud, drinking his coffee without looking at her. 

"He wants you to speak to her." 

"And you don't." He tried to not let his irritation show. 

"Eventually." She replied easily, watching him. Will struggled to keep his expression in check. He tried to smile, to hide the frustration he was feeling, but it just made him seem like he was having a face spasm. He couldn't speak. 

"Jack thinks Abigail was an accomplice to her father's crimes." She began. Will watched her as she shifted in her seat. "I don't want to get into the middle of you and jack, but if I can be helpful to you as a buffer-" she offers. Will's appreciation for her grows as he realizes what she's trying to do. She's just trying to get Jack off his back a little.

"I-I  _ like  _ you as a buffer." He said. "I also like that you rattle Jack, he respects you far too much to yell at you no matter how much he wishes to do so." He added. The alpha before him smiled, a smugness coloring her expression. Classic Alpha pride. 

"And I take advantage of that." She said. Will nodded slightly, and she had to look away to reign in her smile. 

"Abigail Hobbs doesn't have anyone." Will said after a moment of comfortable silence. Alana looks at him sharply, lips pursed into a frown. 

"You can't be her everyone." 

Will looked at his coffee, avoiding her hard gaze. She looked up with a sigh.

"When I said what I was going to say in my head, it sounded  _ really  _ insulting so I'm going to find another way to say it. " At this, Will's cheeks prickled, flushing red with embarrassment and a miniscule amount of irritation, ready for the worst. He put his coffee down as he leaned over the table to be closer to her, so he could see her clearly. 

"Say it the insulting way."

"Dogs keep a promise that a person can't." She said finally after a moment. Will lifts his head in realization and breathed out.

"I'm not collecting another stray."

"The first person Abigail talks to about what happened, can't be anyone who was there. So that means _no_ Dr.Lecter either." She said, her wide eyes locked onto Will attentively. Will looked down, at his hands, a sudden sadness falling over him as things clicked into place for him. 

"Yeah, much less the guy who killed her dad." He said softly, swallowing. "Jacks wrong about Abigail."

Abigail looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. 

"Let me reach out to her in my own way." The alpha said before putting her coffee down and standing up. Will doesn't look at her as she goes. 

He checked his watch and rubbed his face before preparing to go to class.

Will gave his lecture about the copycat killer, looking into young, rapt faces as he spoke of his theory. It was only after his class that we saw Hannibal and Jack standing in the dark near the doorway. Hannibal had a very pleased expression on his face as he walked toward them. 

"We will be seeing Abigail today." Hannibal said as a greeting, eyes sparkling. That was all Will needed to pack his belongings.

***

"-A man named Will graham. Works for the FBI but isn't FBI." Was the first thing Will heard as he entered Abigail's room. A voice he didn't find familiar but the vitriol and dislike he heard was. He turned beyond the door to see Freddie Lounds on Abigail's bed, her back toward them as she spoke to her.

"He catches insane men because he thinks like them." She turned at the sound of the door opening before standing up, continuing, "Because he is  _ insane _ .". Will could feel his blood, pumping through his veins furiously as he forced his words out calmly. 

"Would you excuse us, please?" He asked, his voice as sharp and unwelcoming as ice. 

Freddie Lounds stood, her posturing aggressive and her eyes locked on Wills. He doesn't look at her. He looks at Abigail. She looks better. More alive.

"I'm Special Agent Will Graham." He introduced himself officially to Abigail, who was looking up at him with wide, disoriented eyes. He gave her a small smile. 

"By Special Agent he means not really an agent. He didn't get past the screening process. Too... _ unstable _ ." Freddie interjected rudely, looking back at Abigail before turning her venomous stare to Will. Abigail looked between them with apprehension.

Hannibal approached Freddie, his height almost dwarfing her. She didn't step back even though she was afraid. That was one thing about alphas that Will respected, was their stubborn idiotic pride.

"I really must insist you leave the room." Hannibal said, voice deep and authoritative yet the very image of a polite gentleman. 

"If you want to talk-,'' Freddie began, pulling a card out of her clutch to give to Abigail. Will couldn't stop himself from snatching the card almost violently out of her hands. She had done enough. Abigail didn't need anymore of Freddies  _ insightful  _ help. He tucked the card into his coat pocket, saving it for the garbage. Freddie left under the pressure of Hannibal's dark gaze and slight smile. 

Abigail seemed slightly shaken from the events. Will took off his glasses as Hannibal walked closer to him, arms folded underneath his coat as he approached Abigail's bed.

"Abigail, This is Dr.Lecter." he motioned to Hannibal. "Do you remember us?" 

Abigail looked at Hannibal for a half second before focusing her gaze on Will. "I remember you." She said, maintaining eye contact with him.

"You killed my dad." 

Will stared back at her as he realized that there was a very real chance that she would hate him for that, for killing her father. A very valid hate. He blinked rapidly before his gaze fell and he swallowed back his emotion. 

"You've been in bed for days, Abigail. Why don't we have a walk?" Hannibal suggested. She looked at him for a moment before nodding hesitantly.

They led her to the greenhouse within the hospital. Will held her elbow, allowing her to use him as a crutch as she ambled carefully through the hospital. 

"I'm sorry we couldn't save your mother." Will said as they reached the greenhouse. She wore a scarf to cover her scar. He hoped she wouldn't feel embarrassed about it but he knew it was likely. 

"We did everything we could, but she was already gone."

"I know," she whispered, eyes trained on the ground before her, lost in memory. "I  _ saw  _ him kill her." 

Hannibal and Will helped her into the decorative metal garden bench as she spoke. "He was loving right until the moment he wasn't." Will could see the trauma, the conflicting emotions brewing behind her wide blue eyes as she recounted the story with a melancholic smile. "He kept saying he was sorry, that I should hold still. That he was going to make it all go away.”

Will stood beside in front of her, Hannibal's presence and scent beside him grounding him 

"There was plenty wrong with your father, Abigail, but there's nothing wrong with you." He said, his empathy soaking up her distress and her self-conscious guilt and self-hatred. She looked up at him sharply, disbelieving. 

"You say he was loving, I  _ believe  _ it. That's what  _ you  _ brought out in him." He said with kind eyes. 

"It's not  _ all  _ I brought out in him." She rasped at him, her face a mixture of self-loathing and exhaustion. Will understood the weight of the emotion she felt. He probably would have felt the same if he were in her position. He could feel his heart tearing in sympathy. 

"I'm gonna be messed up." She asked shakily, looking away from will and into the distance. Her voice trembled. "Aren't I?" She asked, blue eyes shooting back up at him. Will didn't have a response for her, being the king of the messed up and off. 

"I’m worried about nightmares." She said to him, eyes hoping for anything to spare her from them. Hannibal moved closer, shifting her teary gaze from Will to him.

"We'll help you with the nightmares." He reassured her. Will took that moment to sit next to her.

"There is no such thing as getting  _ used  _ to what you experienced." He said slowly, settling into the hard and frankly uncomfortable bench. "I worry about nightmares too." He said, gaze falling a little flat as the image of Garrett Jacob Hobbs came to his mind.  _ God _ , he hated this. He could feel her sharp pain and suffering, amplified by their closeness. 

Abigail looked at him wonderingly. "So killing somebody...even if you have to do it...it feels that bad?" She inquired curiously. He was suddenly hyper aware of Hannibal's presence at his shoulder. He remembered their conversations. Will blinked slowly at her, thinking of what to say to her, to Abigail, a promising young girl who had been thrusted into the world of death and loss so soon. He looked down, his brows furrowing as he measured his next words carefully. 

"It's the  _ ugliest  _ thing in the world." 

Abigail blinked rapidly, holding back tears. 

"I wanna go home." She said, her voice breaking on the word home. Her lip trembled as she looked at Hannibal and Hannibal looked back at her thoughtfully. 

They took her back to her room and made sure she was comfortable before they checked out of the facility. Hannibal and Will walked out together in contemplative silence. Will didn't know how to feel. Will was close enough to scent Hannibal's sudden irritation, even through the icy wind and looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead. Will followed his gaze until he landed right on Freddie Lounds, sitting on Hannibal's Bentley with a mischievous smile of her lips. 

"Special Agent Graham, I never formally introduced myself, I'm Freddie Lounds." She said with a false smile as she walked up to them with her gloved hand stretched out. Will took the moment to put on his glasses, ignoring her outstretched hand. 

"Are you trying to salvage this joke from the mouth of madness?" He groused out, his thoughtful mood souring.

"Please. Let me apologize for my behavior in there. It was sloppy, misguided and hurtful." She said earnestly, face the very image of solemn regret. To say Will was pissed at the audacity of this woman, would be an understatement. He wanted the earth to split open and swallow Freddie Lounds whole. 

"Miss Lounds, now is not the time." Hannibal said over Will's shoulder. His dark gaze staring knowingly at her. The slightest frisson of fear slid behind her pale blue eyes before she turned to Will.

"Look, you and I have our reasons for being here, but I think we both genuinely care about what happens to Abigail Hobbs." She said, almost forcefully. Her bright red hair blew in the wind wildly, like flames around her face.

Will exhaled sharply, straightening his back until he was standing at his full height. "You told her I was insane." 

"I can undo that." She offered earnestly, blatantly manipulative. 

"You get me to be seen as more than her father's killer and what, I help you with...online ad sales?" He said, incredulously. Every moment he spent standing outside talking to Freddie, he felt a dark pit frustration forming in his chest, warping each and every thought he had. His hands twitched slightly before relaxing.

"I can undo what I said. I can also make it a lot worse." She threatened cheekily, a smug smile painting her pink lips. The dark thoughts that swirled around in his mind made striding up to her almost too easy, almost second nature as he got in her face. The maw within him opening widely and snapping closed with each uneven breath he exhaled.

"Miss Lounds," he began very carefully, not recognizing his own voice as he continued, "it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living." He said darkly. Freddie didn't reply. She simply smiled at him, eyes bright and smug.

  
*  
  


_ "It's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living." _ Jack read aloud before turning a questioning gaze to Will.

Will sat between Hannibal and Alana, face blank as he stared into the wood of Jack's table. He was zoning out really, only half paying attention. Jack was furious at him, that much was true, but he couldn't hide the amusement in his voice. Jack was a moment away from bursting into laughter but he had an image to keep.

Will didn't care. He would do it again. Jack should be grateful that Will didn't reach out and so something far more horrifying to her. 

  
  


Jack wanted Abigail to go to return home, to see if she was a murder like her father. Will was exhausted by this particular song in dance but he didn't have much of a choice.

***

They took Abigail back to her home, only to find it desecrated with the word _cannibal_ written across her garage and front door in big, blocky text. Abigail fought hard to keep unshed tears at bay.

Will was trying his best to be there for her but he was having a rough afternoon. His focus was shot. He couldn't keep his glasses on because they hurt his eyes. Being in the Hobbs home, where he killed Garret Jacob Hobbs wasn't going well for him. He was closer, always dancing on the edge of his psyche. He could feel the ghost Garret Jacob Hobbs behind him, everywhere he turned. Breathing wetly into his ears, filling Will's nostrils with the scent of death and madness.

Hannibal kept sending him glances but thankfully said nothing to him. He was really not in the mood for any psychoanalysis or pity. Alana was far too focused on Abigail to note anything off about him, thankfully.

Abigail's friend, Marissa Shurr came over to see her and it would have been an excellent chance for Abigail to have a sense of normalcy if not for a ginger haired man showing up, full of fire and brimstone and pain.

The girls fended for themselves as well as they can before they arrive but the man fled before they could apprehend him. Will and Hannibal searched the surrounding areas for him but found nothing. Will wanted this day to be over. 

They agreed to look for the Hobbs cabin tomorrow, and Hannibal escorted him to his Hotel room.

Will dreams that night. A beautiful day, perfect in every way. Morning dew on the foliage, mist hanging around their knees, the sun shining through the leaves above them in rays. Will's arms around Abigail. His hunting knife pressed on her throat. Her begging for him to leave her, to let her live. His whispers of reassurance that everything was going to be fine, as he felt the tender flesh of her throat give way to his blade as he sliced across with a violent flourish.

Will woke with a start. He gasped desperately for air, his throat tight and his flesh and sheets drenched in sweat. His dark curls were plastered to his face and he could barely think over the relentless drumming of his heart. He could still feel his tight grip on the worn wood of Garret Jacob Hobbs's hunting knife.

Will stood and put on some clothes, weakly panting as he tried to calm down. It was just a dream, and it was probably triggered by being so close to Hobbs's house. That was all, he thought to himself shakily, as he opened up the dark, dusty blinds of the hotel room. Abigail was fine, and he harbored no negative feelings toward her. He was just...tired. 

  
  


***

They head to the cabin the next morning, police escort cutting the tape and unlocking the door for them. Will wasn't feeling all that talkative after his rough night and he felt a strange sense of guilt whenever he looked at Abigail. Luckily for him Hannibal and Alana take charge of Abigail and talk to her. 

She spoke of her father, of his germaphobia which was just an excuse to mask any trace of what he did. Watching the realization that she'd been eating human flesh, the sharp revulsion and horror on her face was almost too much for him.

Alana touched her shoulder and began reassuring her when suddenly a drop of sticky red blood landed on Abigail's forehead.

She touched it, the red spreading on her pale fingers and she looked up in confusion and mounting horror. There was blood dripping through the floorboards of the second floor. 

Will could feel his heart drop into his stomach as he walked up the shabby stairs to the second floor, the old wood creaking ominously with each step. 

There, amongst the throng of antlers, was the body of a young girl, with brown hair, perched upon the sharp points. Blood dripped through her underwear, down her pasty legs and off her hanging feet. Will walked to her slowly, calling for an emergency rescue team in case there was any hope that she was still alive but as he got closer, he truly doubted that. 

  
  


He lifted her head, her hair damp and ice and he was staring right into the face of Marissa Schurr. He stared into her half-open, dead eyes. He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs behind and the gasping, horrified screams of Abigail. 

***

"Do you think she knew the guy down by the stream?" Will asked vacantly. Hannibal loomed over him as he looked at the dead boy hanging before him. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. 

"Somebody's brother." Hannibal suggested.

"Not somebody. Abigail said he asked if she helped her dad take his sisters lungs while she was alive." Will bit out. 

"The young woman on the stag's head."

"Cassie Boyle had a brother named Nicholas. But Garret Jacob Hobbs didn't kill Cassie Boyle." Will insisted. 

"I know." At this, Will looked at Hannibal in slight confusion.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs would've honored every part of her." Will stared at Hannibal as he spoke, trying to understand what he was feeling. Their eyes met.

"You brought…Abigail Hobbs... Back home to find out if she was involved with her fathers murders and another girl dies." Jacks voice was low as he stood near the entrance of the second floor. 

"Yup, scraped his knuckles right on her teeth. There's foreign tissue and what could be trace amounts of blood." Will murmured to Hannibal as he leaned close to look inside her mouth with his flashlight. He neatly ignored Jack. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with the Alphas confrontation.

"You said this copycat was an intelligent psychopath, Will. That there would be no traceable motive, no pattern. He would not kill again this way." Jack's voice echoed in the cabin. "You said it." He said, accusation making his words venomous.

Will faltered under the weight of Jacks criticizing observation. 

"I may have been wrong about that." Will replied, voice low.

"Yes, because Garett Jacob Hobbs never struck his victims. Would the copy cat do it." Jack asked, watching Will closely. Will could feel the iron glare of jack stuck on the side of his face.

"He could have been provoked." Hannibal offered helpfully.

"Nicholas Boyle murdered this girl and his own sister." Will said shakily.

Will began to sweat, anxiety making him breathless. He wasn't certain about that but it would take the heat off of Abigail.

"With or without Abigail?" Jack asked almost as if he read Wills thoughts. He was always too good at reading him.

"Without." 

"Well, do you think that Abigail Hobbs knew Nichols or Cassie Boyle?"

"No..."

Jack took slow and intimidating steps towards Will. 

"You don't think she knew them...or don't want to think she knew them?" The alpha asked quietly. It was that instant that Will knew Jack had him pegged. He knew Will felt affection for Abigail that was strong enough to bias him. But this wasn't bias. Will was absolutely certain that she didn't do this. 

"She said she didn't know them," Will said, taking a step away from the body, refusing to look at Jack as he neared. He looked toward Hannibal unconsciously, instinct pushing closer to him. The kinder alpha in the room.

Jack sighed.

"Dr. Bloom says that Abigail has a penchant for, uh, manipulation. Is she manipulating you, Will?" Jack's voice was low, filled with a low Alpha growl, prompting Will to answer honestly. Wills's nerves felt exposed. He didn't want to have to deal with this. 

Hannibal shifted his weight toward Will, turning his gaze to Jack.

"Agent Crawford." He almost growled, a warning in his voice. His intervention made Will feel only a bit better. 

"Look, he said he was wrong about the copycat killer, I just want to know what else he was wrong about." Jack said lightly, maintaining eye contact with the older Alpha. Will felt like he could finally breathe with Jack's laser gaze focused elsewhere.

"Whoever killed the girl on the field, killed this girl. I'm right about that. He knew exactly how to mount the body." Will insisted. "The wound patterns are nearly identical to Cassie Boyle, same design the same...humiliation." He finished, sliding a glance at Jack's face. Jack was attentive. 

"Abigail Hobbs is not a killer but she could be the target of one." Hannibal intoned. Jack looked at them both with a critical eye.

"I think it's about time that Abigail leaves Minnesota. Doctor, would you be good enough to collect Abigail and all of her belongings and escort her out of Minnesota, please?" He asked gravely. Hannibal looked at Will, who was silent for a while, before heading down the stairs. 

Will motioned to follow Hannibal before Jack put a hand up. 

"Not _you_ , Will. I want you here."

Jack's face was a tableau of anger, frustration, and suspicion. Will just nodded, mind focused on the man that was currently walking out of the cabin.

***

Will and Jack made it back to the house, along with an ambulance. Apparently Nicholas Boyle wreaked havoc and attacked Alana and Hannibal in an attempt to get to Abigail. Will was worried about Hannibal and Abigail and even though they told him they were all flesh wounds, he couldn't feel at peace until he saw them, or at least heard from them. Will stood to leave before Jack stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

Will looked at Jack's chin, eyes dark and exhausted. 

"I wanna go home." He walked away, not waiting for another response. He felt the weight of Jack's eyes as he left the scene. He headed to Hannibal's office. The impulse, the draw to check on him was too strong to resist. 

  
  


***

A few hours later, Will found himself sitting in front of Hannibal, staring at him vacantly. Hannibal seemed fine, not a hair out of place, just as Jack told him. It was just nice to see rather than just hear about it. Hannibal was happy at his late intrusion it seemed. 

"Sometimes...at night, I leave the lights on, in my little house and uh...walk across the flat fields. When I look back from the distance, it's like a boat on the sea..." 

Will's eyes were far away. His pupils tiny pin pricks under the lights of the office. He didn't feel well; he didn't feel right. He felt detached yet so connected to the thoughts in his mind that he was becoming overwhelmed. He stared off to the side, seeing nothing. Hannibal listened to him carefully, as patient as father time.

"It's really the only time I feel safe." He admitted. Hannibal leaned forward a little, his hands clasped together before him.

"You stood in the breathing silence of Garret Jacob Hobbs home. The very spaces he moved through." Will looked at him at the mention of the name.

"Tell me Will...did they speak to you?" He asked. Will was suddenly back in that moment, the moment of chaos in the Hobbs family home. His heart pounding wildly and his shaking hands holding a gun

" _Noise_ _and clarity_." He hissed, his heart racing as his mind took over. Will was no longer fully in the room.

"You could sense his madness. Like a bloodhound." Hannibal murmured. 

Will could feel the panic rising through him steadily. A shiver ran down his spine. His eyes prickled unpleasantly, and he blinked rapidly to ease the sting.

"I  _ tried  _ so...hard to  _ know  _ Garret Jacob Hobbs." He whispered, almost breathless with stress.

Images of the beta man flashed across his vision, holding his panicking daughter, tightly in his arms, blade pressed tightly against her throat. Abigail fought with all she could but he was too strong. Too far gone.

"To  _ see _ him."

The feeling of the gun in his hands, heating, burning as he pulled the trigger over and over. Abigail's blood spraying across the kitchen.

"Past the slides and vials, beyond the lines of the police reports, between the piles of all those...printed faces of  _ sad _ , dead girls." He exhaled sharply.

He could feel the spray of blood across his face, tasting the coppery tang across his tongue and the feeling of Abigail's hot flesh, spurting bright red blood in his hands. Garret Jacob Hobbs looking over at him, whispering " _ See _ ?  _ See _ ?” As Will tried to save his daughter's life.

Hannibal gazed at will in rapt silence, focusing on every flutter of Will's eyelids, his fidgeting and distress, the distance in his eyes. He licked his lips before he spoke.

"How did you feel seeing Marrisa Shurr, impaled in his antler room?"

Will was lost in the memory. The girl's arms opened as if she were being crucified while her head was bent over. Dark hair covering her face. Will's mouth was dry. He blinked for a few moments as he stared at Hannibal. Hannibal inched forward in his seat, waiting. 

"Guilty."

Hannibal's eye twitched minutely.

"Because you couldn't save her?"

"Because I felt like I killed her." Will gritted out. He suddenly moved forward, mirroring Hannibal's pose. Hannibal raised a brow at this, resisting the urge to smile. It would be far too inappropriate.

"I got so close to him!" Will whispered frantically, half crazed. "Sometimes, I felt like we were doing the same things at different times of day. Like I was eating, or showering or sleeping at the same time he was." 

At this, Hannibal's expression dropped into one of honest intrigue, his eyes glittering with curiosity and interest.

"Even after he was dead?" He asked. Will paused, his eyes drifting to Garret Jacob Hobbs, next to him, looking at him with wild, knowing eyes. He swallowed dryly. 

"Yeah, even after he was dead."

"Like...you were becoming him."

Will's dream from the night before, of him slicing Abigail's throat open, played behind his eyes. He couldn't do this. He was nauseous. 

"I know who I am  _ Dr.Lecter, _ " he said, leaning back in his chair, building distance, even if it was a tiny amount. Hannibal tilted his head to the side. 

"I'm not Garret Jacob Hobbs." He whispered unconvincingly. Hannibal said nothing, simply observed him, his thoughts moving fast beyond his dark eyes. Will bent forward and tiredly rubbed his face

***

Will finally made it home a little after midnight, his feet heavy and sore. His mind was scattered like fallen leaves on the wind. With each step forward into dry, overgrown grass, he wished he would fall, deep into the earth so he would feel some form of stability. Everything was in the state of unknown and Will was desperately trying to just keep it together.

He tried unlocking the door but it swung open slightly at his touch. The lock was busted open. He pushed forward cautiously as he slowly walked into his darkened home. Beyond his heavy breaths, it was silent. The dogs were usually loud and rambunctious at his arrival but it was dead silent. Fear slid down his scalp and his back sharply, like a bucket of ice water was being dumped on him. 

Will pulled his gun out of his holster shakily. The strong feeling of  _ wrong wrong wrong  _ wouldn't dissipate. He rushed further into the house, to his room, and found them. None of his dogs were awake. They were all huddled around each other in a deep sleep. He could finally breathe. The scent of someone was lingering in the air, faint and old. An alpha that smelled of burning rubber and rotting blood.

Will slowly and carefully tried to wake his pups up, but they simply chuffed at him in annoyance before turning away. This wasn't normal. Were they drugged? This wasn't-

This was insane. His home, his sanctum. His safe place. His  _ nest _ . Invaded. 

  
  


Will was numb. Thoughts rushed though his mind at breakneck speed.

He couldn't move from where he stood, staring at his sleeping dogs. Will shakily pulled out his phone, dialed a number, waited for four long seconds before the line was picked up. 

_ "Will? Is everything alright-” _

"I-I need help." He whispered wetly, tears smothering, and drowning his words.

_ "Are you home? I am on the way. Do not move." _

The line cut off and Will collapsed over his dogs protectively with a choked sob, and somewhere nearby, the shutter of a camera went off.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will go back and rewrite some of the earlier chapters once i get into the full swing of writing again. Its been a long while since I've written like this. Please be patient with me.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	5. La Tour

Hannibal and Will ended up spending the night at the emergency veterinarian. Will was almost catatonic with worry but luckily for him, Hannibal was much more out together. Hannibal had lifted every single dog with ease, carrying their limp weight without even a huff of exhaustion. He put them all into his very expensive car without hesitation. Will was frozen on the ground, cradling Winston when Hannibal had first arrived. He didn't comment, only gently easing him up and leading him to the car. 

The dogs were individually tested, and the hospital ended up calling in more workers due to the sheer amount of dogs. They found a decent amount of  _ diazepam  _ in their systems and it was solely the utterly  _ ruined  _ expression on the omegas face that kept the doctors from suspecting him of mistreatment. They wanted to keep the dogs for the next few days for observation and to make sure that they would be fine and Will was entirely prepared to sit in the uncomfortable blue seats in the waiting rooms until they could be discharged. They reassured him over and over that the dogs would be fine but they didn't understand. The pups were his pack. His  _ home _ . 

Hannibal convinced him they would call him if anything was wrong and that Will should at least try to get some breakfast. Will wanted to argue but when he looked at the Alpha, he realized Hannibal was still in his nightclothes, reminding him that he had rushed out of his home to come to Will's aid. 

"I'm sorry for dragging you out here, go home and get some rest." Will apologized, his nose wet and rosy red from the few tears that squeezed out of him against his will. He honestly looked terrible, dark under eyes from sleepless nights, pale skin beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, and his tear-stained cheeks made him seem like a wreck. Hannibal found his state of vulnerability and turmoil  _ very  _ attractive.

"Nonsense, don't worry about me. I am here for you Will, like the moon is there for the tide, I will always be there for you. I swear my honor upon it. If you find yourself distraught or in need, no matter what it is, I am  _ there _ ." Hannibal said lowly, his dark eyes hyper focused on Will as he reached for Will's hand. Will took it and stood up slowly. As he stood he noticed the faint dog hairs clinging to Hannibal's coat and absently began rubbing them away. Hannibal's words resounded in his head, his brows pulled together. He did nothing that deserved such devotion. 

He plucked as much as he could off before Hannibal's hand came up and grabbed his wrist gently. He glanced up at the taller man before turning away at the expression on his face. Hannibal smiled, eyes soft and wrinkles pulling at his eyes. "We should try to get some food if possible." Hannibal said, releasing his hand.

_ I will always be there for you.  _

His stomach felt tight with stress and he wasn't entirely sure if he could eat anything without throwing it back up. He didn't respond to the heartfelt words, afraid of what he might say in the early morning.

Afraid of being too  _ honest _ . 

They walked outside the hospital and stood in the freezing morning air. The sun had yet to rise but the night blue was turning a mottled and bruised purple with time. Will looked at the stars partially hidden by light clouds and shivered slightly as he tried to digest everything that happened. 

His stalker, likely an alpha, had broken into his home and somehow drugged his dogs, possibly to snoop or take something. Or perhaps put something in his home. He had to return home to put his anxiety to rest 

"Can you take me home? I have to look for anything out of place-"

"This is where I  _ must  _ put my foot down, Will, for your own sake. We must call Jack. Your home is a crime scene." Hannibal said, his face heavy with disapproval. Will frowned, irritation creeping into his expression. He turned away.

"I  _ understand  _ your point but-"

"What if they had managed to  _ drug  _ you Will? Or even  _ poison  _ your dogs?" Hannibal said, his voice polite and reasonable but something about his tone made Will look at him. Hannibal's expression was deceptively calm, even, but the corners of his eyes were tight with muted anger that Will didn't completely understand. Will closed his mouth. His brows pulled together as he pinched his lips closed. He looked away from Hannibal again as his stomach cramped in response to his distress. Hannibal's expression softened minutely. 

"I'll call him for you. Let us go sit in the car, out of the cold." Hannibal put his arm around Will's shoulder gently and led him to his neatly parked car. 

Hannibal put the heat on blast once Will buckled in. He discreetly allowed his scent to permeate in the air, to aid in calming Will but by his unimpressed glare, he wasn't discreet enough. Ah well. 

Hannibal called Jack and even though it was 3:50 a.m., he picked up on the second ring. 

" _ Crawford _ ." Jack barked out, sleep and irritation coloring his words. Hannibal could hear the faint sound of light snoring in the background.

"Good morning Jack, I'm sorry to call you so early but there was a break-in at Will's residence."

" _ A break-in? Was anyone hurt? _ " Jack asked sharply. 

"Luckily no one was injured, but Will's dogs were drugged. We are currently at the Veterinarians." At this Hannibal could see Will squirm in agitation in the corner of his eye.

There was movement over the line and the faint rustling of sheets. 

" _ Alright I'm sending a squad out, I'll be there in 20 _ ." He said finally. 

"Thank you, Jack."

Hannibal let the call drop before turning to Will. 

"He's sending a crew. We should go now if you want to get a clearer view before they arrive." He said. Will nodded slowly, weariness colored in every line of his body. He leaned back into the warm seat and closed his eyes. Hannibal pulled out of the lot without another word. 

***

Will looked at his house through the windshield. Dark shadows twisting his white house into a setting of horror. He turned to Hannibal as he turned off the ignition, his hands moving slowly. It was ridiculously late. 

"You don't have to stay, you know? You should probably catch up on some sleep before-"

"I wouldn't dream of leaving you out here alone, even without the threat of stalker." Will frowned deeply at this, the idea of needing Hannibal to be safe was preposterous and frankly offensive. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped at the dark lines in Hannibal’s face, the shadows around them throwing a sense of protectiveness into his eyes. 

"Humor me and my baser animal instincts?" Hannibal said dryly, running a hand through his hair. Will closed his mouth as they left the car. Was Hannibal truly the type who couldn't control his instincts?

This seemed almost unfeasible to Will but he couldn't really think of any other reason as to why he would be here, in his nightclothes and overcoat in the middle of the night. He nodded silently as they both left the car.

The moon was a glittering beacon of light in the distant night sky. Full and bright. The only sounds Will could hear was the  _ crunch  _ of frosted dry grass beneath his shoes, his muted breathing, and the occasional jingle of Hannibal's car keys in his hands. Hannibal was a specter besides Will, so quiet that Will would have no issue deconstructing the scene with him nearby. 

They stand outside his home, lights off and the black vines climbing on the sides, hardly visible under the moon. No longer his boat, floating in the sea. No longer his safe space.

He stares vacantly. Feelings of anxiety, stress, and fear shed from him like snakeskin. He deeply breathed in the cool dark air, holding the icy air in his lungs until they begged him to release. His eyes closed.

-

He strode toward the house of Will Graham with intent and confidence. The dogs stared at him warily, barking through the glass but he simply smiled and waved at them. Lust and obsession ran through his veins. He was so close to his love, about to breathe in his very air. 

He didn't have time to pick the lock, Will could be home any minute. His schedule was far too irregular. In the future, that would change but for now, he had to hurry. He pulled out the crowbar he had brought along and wedged it between the lock and  _ pushed _ . It popped open under the pressure of his weight. The dogs rushed to him, snarling and baring their teeth at him but he was calm in the face of adversity like a  _ true  _ alpha should be. He stood straight, to his full height, and lifted a finger. The dogs were wary of him, instinct and fear forcing them a few feet back. The euphoria he gained by standing in the home of Will Graham was enough to make him close his eyes. The faint sweet scent of freshwater lingered everywhere under the dust and dog hair. The metallic twinge of suppressants was domineering. That was... _ unacceptable _ . But that too would change. Hit mate was  _ perfect  _ for him, but there were a lot of things he would change.

He pulled out three half-cooked, bloody steaks for them, dropped them on the ground near the door before walking backward. 

They eyed him warily until he left the house, pulling the door gently behind him, and waited. 

With the strength of the sedative he put into the meat, it was only roughly a 30-minute wait. A nerve-wracking wait. Then with that, he began. 

-

Will blinked his eyes open and rushed to the tree in his yard before heaving. Nothing came up except bile and spit. His vision trembled slightly. 

"Will? Will, what's wrong?" Hannibal's hand landed on his back and Will stumbled away from the alpha’s touch and nearly slapped his hand away.

" _ Don't touch me! _ " he hissed venomously, wiping away the saliva on his face as he lifted his other arm in self-defense,  _ lost  _ in his mind. Garret Jacob Hobbs stood over him, his pale, dead hand reaching out for him menacingly.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes until he saw the wild vacancy in Will's eyes. He took a step closer. Will flinched violently and stumbled backwards, almost falling into the snow crusted dirt.

"Where are you, Will? You are not alone, I am here. We are in front of your house and it is 4:58 A.M. whatever you are seeing isn't there." Hannibal said loudly but calmly. Will blinked rapidly before rubbing his eyes. Hannibal could see when Will recognized him, embarrassment flooding his cheeks with a deep red stain of regret, mouth twisting into a frown. 

"I-I'm sorry, I've never done that before,  _ God _ ." Will apologized, putting his arm down. Hannibal shook his head slightly, not truly bothered by his reaction but entirely intrigued. 

"Who did you see, just now?"

Will averted his eyes. Hannibal's stare was piercing, glittering with questions and theories. Will looked away.

"This alpha is looking for his mate. In me." Hannibal's eyes were blank, his expression carefully neutral. 

"Why you?" At that, Will couldn't help the faint trembling chuckle. Good question.

"Well, I don't know if to be offended or agree with you, doctor Lecter."

Hannibal gave him a faintly amused look.

"There are many reasons why someone would be drawn to an individual like you. I am simply curious as to the cause of this  _ particular  _ obsession." 

"You say that as if I already have obsessed people around me," Will said with a short smile. 

Hannibal returned the smile. "Maybe you do. Jack is obsessed with your imagination and your ability to jump to the right conclusions, for example."

Will snorted. "Yeah, I think that's a little different." Hannibal just gave him a strange smile.

Will frowned as he recognized the distant FBI sedans driving over the horizon. Dawn was breaking, casting light over the clouds, casting grey everywhere. Snow fell gently in the frigid air.

"He's...  _ broken _ . Somehow, maybe a physical injury or scar. Or maybe he has mental trauma. He knows I'm not normal, that I have an empathy disorder. He thinks that his only chance at a mate is with someone like him. He has a pack. But he thinks he  _ needs  _ a mate." Will stated distantly, looking at the pale clouds above them. 

Hannibal watched him, enraptured by the tiny crystal flakes that landed on Will's cheek, and watched them melt almost instantly with his feverish skin. He wanted to hold Wills head firmly in his hands and lick it off, to taste his flesh.

"It is often that individuals seek what they think they deserve. He thinks he deserves to be understood and no one else can do it. Only you." Hannibal put his hands into his coat pockets, his lips twitching upward at Will's shrug.

"And what do you think I  _ deserve _ , Doctor Lecter?" Will asked with a snort, sarcasm coloring every word. A very real vulnerable curiosity hid beneath his shaky nonchalance.

Will expected a slight shrug or one of his funny smiles he gave him whenever he was keeping something back. Hannibal stared at him silently for a moment, taken aback, and Will reveled in the slight satisfaction of knowing he pulled his legs from under him, even if it's just a little. Hannibal stood taller and brushed something off his coat lapel before speaking. Will couldn't help but stare at his elegant fingers moving so gracefully, effortlessly. 

"Something the  _ average  _ person is incapable of giving you." Hannibal began, his sharp dark eyes cutting into him beneath the moonlight. Will raised his brows sharply. 

"You deserve something that is wholly excellent, something entirely real and unique, something that will fit perfectly." Will gnawed on his lips in embarrassment and wished he said nothing. "You deserve someone who Will understand you and accept you for everything you are, even the parts you are unaware of. Someone who will allow you to be your  _ true  _ self."

This declaration made Will flush, red blooming on his pale cheeks and dipping down his cheeks to the back of his neck. He dragged his eyes away from Hannibal and stared blindly at the peeling paint of his house. Hannibal greedily allowed his eyes to watch the blood rush to his skin as Will awkwardly fidgeted. 

"Well, if I use that as my criteria, I'm bound to die alone Doctor, that's quite the fantasy." Will chuckled uneasily, flustered.

Hannibal gave him a secret smile. 

"What if it weren't as impossible as you believe? It is difficult to see yourself clearly when you spend your life looking through others' perspectives." He said. Will offered nothing in response. His silence didn't deter Hannibal.

"Would you help him, Will? Bring out the best in him? Do you feel compelled to save him?" Will glanced at him. He slid his hands beneath his armpits, a chill breeze racking over him. The shadows that lingered in the trees around his homes reached out to him, breathing and living hands trying to touch him, grasp at him. His eyes blurred slightly before focusing sharply. He shuffled imperceptibly closer to Hannibal, the light layer of snow crunching beneath his shoes. What a...  _ strange  _ idea. Helping an Alpha by surrendering to his delusions and mating with him. It was borderline repulsive, almost _offensive_. It must have shown on his expression with the smirk that climbed onto Hannibal's lips.

"I'm not sure I can pull the best out of anyone. Only the truth." Will mumbled sourly, fingers clenched tightly around his ribs. Jack's car was the first to pull up. Hannibal turned to Will with a small smile and an indecipherable gaze.

"Sometimes, the truth is more than mankind deserves." 

***

They didn't find any DNA. None. Not even a partial print. No hair, no saliva, only a faintly muddy boot print. Jack was concerned but Will skillfully dodged his suggestions to move on campus, where it was more secure. Will would rather die. Forcing himself to be social with the students and staff, it was a special kind of hell for Will.

"I'm serious Will, you're my best profiler, you'd be at home in the academy," Jack said as Will removed police tape hanging around his door.

Hannibal had left a few hours before, claiming to have appointments with patients he couldn't stand up. Will ignored the tiny twinge of disappointment that lingered sorely in his chest.

"Come to me, to my home for dinner tonight. You have a long day before you, and I have a new recipe I'd like you to try, if it's convenient for you." Hannibal turned to him before climbing into his Bentley. His eyes were trained on Will's, as he processed the request. 

"You know you don't have to try to convince me to come over right? It's a good day when I'm able to taste anything you make." He said as the crew rushed into his house carrying gear and dressed in sterile suits. Hannibal looked at him, expression slightly smug before nodding and leaving him with the crew. Hannibal stared at his departing car for a while. 

Apparently, he was dealing with the  _ 'jack trying to micromanage and coddle him _ ' part of the day.

"I'd ' _ be at home' _ huh?" Will parroted with a sarcastic smirk. Jack rolled his eyes. 

" _ Right _ . It would be safer for you. It would be a damn shame if anything were to happen to you." This was a genuine sentiment from Jack. Will could tell that he genuinely wanted nothing to happen to him. Will remained silent for a while as the Alpha watched him intensely. Will crumpled the yellow and black plastic in his hands, feeling the sticky texture between his fingers.

"I appreciate the offer Jack, but I have to stay and take care of the dogs. I promise to always have my weapon ready and to refresh my self-defense lessons." He said, looking at Jack's collar. It was slightly uneven. He probably was rushing out of his home after Hannibal's call. This made Will feel guilty. He knew he should have stopped Hannibal.

Will would not run from a stalker or anyone brave enough to threaten the safety of his dogs. Something living and dark, that was warped and ugly in his chest, in his blood, his heart wouldn't let him. 

Jack stared at him for a while, eyes shrewd and analyzing Will thoughtfully. Finally, he nodded before turning away. Will's promises seemed to work, at least a little.

"Good. Let me know _i_ __mmediately_ _ if anything happens Will, I'm not kidding." Jack said seriously as he walked off his porch. 

Will gave him a slight but empty smile. 

"I will Jack, thank you."

Jack nodded silently before leaving last. Will watched all the cars leave his property before heading back in.

He had a broken lock to fix.

*** 

Will went to his afternoon class, on his seventh cup of coffee, and a slight stutter as he presented cases before his students. He was truly looking forward to dinner with Lecter, considering the only thing in his stomach was a waxy apple swimming in a pool of black coffee. 

He called the Veterinarians three times during the day and he was sure the secretary, a dark-skinned omega with long curly braids, was running out of patience with him. 

He was barely keeping it together. Beyond his tight half-smiles and avoidance of any avoidable socializing, he was doing fucking terribly. He knew Alana was searching for him, if Jack was as predictable as he seemed. He avoided the lounges and took an alternate way out of the campus halls. He really couldn't deal with Alana's  _ -not therapy- _ while his mind raced under the overdosage of caffeine.

He made it to Hannibal's home with little difficulty. The sun was barely giving effort this evening, allowing the dark clouds to soak up its light. The darkness seemed to chase him all the way there. Will stepped out of his car, fingers trembling slightly in the cold as he walked up to the front door. He found the door opening before he could even ring the bell. Hannibal must have seen him pull up. 

"Good evening, Will." He greeted with a small smile. He looked perfect, refreshed. He didn't look like someone who went the night without sleep. Unlike Will, who looked like he was run over by a horse. He tried not to take it personally.

"Hey, good evening. Sorry if I'm early."

Hannibal stepped aside and Will automatically took off his coat and placed it into Hannibal's arms.

"You're right on time. The food is almost ready." With this, Hannibal pressed a bottle of water in his hands. Will furrowed his brows as his fingers glanced against Hannibal's. 

"I will give you another bottle soon, I'm adding something to your tea. You must be well hydrated to avoid any adverse effects." He said in response to Will's confused stare. Will shrugged and then followed Hannibal to the kitchen, cracking the bottle open and taking the water down in deep gulps. He was actually thirstier than he realized.

"What are we having?" He asked, curious about the scent rolling around the kitchen. It wasn't anything he could place but his stomach growled hungrily at the faintly sweet smell.

"Smoked duck, with a mango, lime, garlic, mint, date sauce with crème fraiche." Hannibal said as he moved around his kitchen, his steps careful and calculated and a focused expression on his face. He was checking on something in the oven. Will tried to peek but Hannibal slid in front of him, blocking his view with a knowing smile. 

"Dessert will remain a mystery."

Will reflected his smile. 

"I don't think I've ever had dates before," Will said as he leaned over the counter, looking at the small, dark brown fruits that Hannibal was slicing thinly to decorate the plates. Hannibal reached into the bowl and plucked one out, maybe the largest one, and offered it to Will. Will looked at it before looking back at Hannibal. His face was readable, but he pushed the date closer, encouraging him. Will nimbly pulled it out of Hannibal's fingers and twisted the slightly wrinkled fruit around. It felt like nothing he has ever held before, similar to dried prunes but he could tell the fruit was juicy. He bit into it, the pit missing, and almost fell over at the ripe texture and almost overly sweet, honeyed flavor. He looked up helplessly as he chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness. Hannibal smiled down at him. 

"Oh god, that's great." Will moaned out as he finished the date. Hannibal gave him an almost huff in response. Will rinsed the sweetness away with the rest of his water. Hannibal immediately took the empty plastic bottle and gave him a fresh one.

"If you have room for it after dessert, you are free to snack on them," Hannibal said before leading will into the dining room. The dining table was decorated with wild holly and cracked pomegranates. beautiful yet wholly unnecessary for a simple dinner with Will, but he wasn't about to complain to the man who was kind enough to invite him in the first place. He sat down, the glass door behind him giving him a view every time he turned his neck. Snow fell heavily against the black backdrop. Will was looking forward to the sleeping tea, craving it terribly. 

Hannibal left for a moment before returning with their plates perched dangerously on his forearms, but he was the very image of balance and grace. He put a plate before will before seating himself across from him. Will looked down at his plate, the dark meat of the duck was sliced beautifully in thick, even slices, the dark sweet sauce drizzled atop it and around a spoonful of crème fraiche nestled right beside the meat. Will didn't really know how to eat the gorgeous meal so he decided to just go at it. Hannibal's gaze was heavy on him as he cut into the tender meat, slide it through the sauce and crème, and put it into his mouth.

Will wasn't fully aware of the sound that he made when the flavors hit him, sweet yet sharp and warming him but it must have been a positive one if the way Hannibal smirked at him was any measure. He looked pleased before cutting into his own duck. 

"Jack wants me to move on campus," Will said, breaking the mildly pleasant silence. Hannibal looked up.

"Oh? That's quite thoughtful of him." 

Will snorted. "Yeah, I don't know what he was thinking either." 

"Jack may be abrasive and at times excessive but he does care about your well-being, Will." Will pushed around the remains on his plate before sighing. 

"I know. I refused." 

"May I ask why?" Hannibal asked curiously over his glass of wine. He never offered any to him, Will noticed. 

"You must understand my distinct aversion to sharing living spaces with my students," Will said dryly.

"Even under the condition of being stalked? Your safety is greatly diminished if you stay alone." Hannibal sounded genuinely curious. Will shrugged.

"I won't be alone. I'll have my dogs. I'll have me. That's all I ever need. I've never needed anything else." 

Hannibal tilted his head slightly to the left, his eyes dark and thoughtful under the lights. 

"You value your independence, you cling to it, your sense of security in your self-reliance" Hannibal mused with a low voice. Will stilled, staring at the blood-red tie Hannibal tucked into his vest.

"I've never let myself down, and I'll always be there for me. Why wouldn't I value it?" Will intoned robotically. He suddenly felt exhausted. He stood from the table.

"Excuse me, I have to use the restroom." He said vacantly, eyes far away.

"Of course, please, this way." Hannibal stood and showed him to a bathroom he hadn't seen before. 

It was smaller than the one he has seen upstairs but just as opulent. A large sink made of pink marble sat beneath a wide mirror.

Will stared at his reflection in the mirror. Under-eye bags so deep he could pack himself away in them. Pale skin and eyes too wide to be beta or alpha. He rubbed them so hard he could see a kaleidoscope of the rainbow in darkness.

He didn't mind his isolation, not really. He'd never thought too hard about it, having the personality defects that he had, he got used to the idea of being alone comfortably. 

  
  


So why did he all of a sudden feel like shit?

  
  
  


***

  
  


He was given his tea and dessert, and almost gelatinous white fluff that tasted like pomegranates and caramel. He ate it all and settled in his seat before the warm fire. 

Hannibal silently gave him the tea and he honestly could have kissed him, for his craving for the bitter and syrupy tea almost had him shaking. 

He sipped slowly, the tea tasting stronger than usual with a slightly salty tang. The sticky honey was a bonus now. 

"I've got to say, I'm not a tea person but I could drink this all day if it didn't take me out almost instantly."

Hannibal smiled. "I'm glad you are enjoying it. It appears to be an excellent treatment for your condition. Tell me, how is your sleep when you aren't here?" He asked, sitting across from Will. Will could already feel the effects of the tea but sat up straighter to be more aware, sweat beading at the nape of his neck. The tea was making him warmer, hotter even. This was new. 

"It's uh, pretty bad. Nightmares most nights." 

"Is there anything striking in these nightmares? Anything unusual or are they the same?"

"Pretty much the same terrors that are stuck to my skull. Always features the Stag Man and the feathered Stag..." Hannibal raised his brow at this. Will was slipping into unconsciousness. 

"Can you explain these dreams to me?..." Was the last thing Will heard as darkness smothered all of his senses.

For the first time since he started this treatment, he dreamed.

He was walking through a desert, the sun a sharp, overbearing, and blinding point in the sky. This was odd, his dreams were usually full of shadows and drowning in deep, dark pools.

The hot sand beneath his toes, burning with every step, his dry skin prickling under the heat and not a single damn thing in sight for miles.

He walked for ages before turning around and startling at the large storm clouds right behind him. Lightning sent shocks of white across his vision, blinding him. Sweat, for the first time in this desert, formed on his dry, cracked skin as he ran. Fear slid under his skin like oil as thunder cracked in the dark clouds menacingly. Tears formed in his eyes and the hair on his arms stood on end. He didn't know why he was running but instinct told him that if he stopped, if he were caught, he would die.

So Will ran aimlessly. 

  
  


***

Will woke up tired. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he felt like he was hung over. His feet stung with phantom sand sticking between his toes and his bed was soaked with his sweat. He leaned up and rubbed at his face only to tense. His face was coated in salty tears. He'd been crying in his sleep. He wiped his face with shaky hands. Terror still stuck to him like a cashmere cloak that he couldn't shake off. 

He climbed out of the bed and tried to stand, only for his knees to give out  _ completely _ . He fell, the sound of his body thumping to the ground loud in the house. His thighs burned terribly as if he had run around the room all night and he couldn't bite back the whimper that climbed out of his throat when he tried to stand up. 

Not even a moment later, Hannibal was there, concern etched into his features.

"Will, are you alright, what happened?" Will buried his head into his arms as he tried again to lift himself up. Humiliation was thick and heavy in his chest as his legs protested every step of the way. Hannibal's hands were large and warm on his arms, helping him back onto the bed. 

"What happened?" He repeated, concern mounting at his silence. Will’s hands were clenched in the thick duvet cover and his teeth were grinding in his agitation. He didn't acknowledge the wet sheets or wills damp face.

"I-I don't know, I woke up, my legs were  _ hurting  _ as if I ran a mile, which funny enough, I did in my dream." Will bit out as he pulled himself back more securely into bed. 

"So you had dreams last night?" Will nodded in silence as he tried massaging his legs.

Hannibal's mouth was a hard line of worry as he reached out to Will’s legs. "May I? I can probably help with the pain, you may have been tensing and straining the muscle for an extended period of time in your sleep because of your dream." He explained as he motioned toward Will’s thighs.

Will hesitated. This was Odd, right? 

Hannibal was an actual surgeon, a proper doctor so he would definitely know what he was doing. Plus his legs really fucking  _ hurt, and _ he just wanted to be able to walk, he reasoned to himself.

He slowly nodded his consent, and Hannibal began prodding and pressing at his thighs. Will's heart was pounding a pattern into his chest as Hannibal's strong, long fingers slid up and down his thighs. Will hissed, loudly in the awkward silence, clawing his fingers into the fabric beneath him so he didn't push Hannibal away. 

It fucking  _ hurt _ , initially at least, as he dug his thumbs and fingers into the sore muscles but soon melted into relief and warm, silky pleasure. Will had to grit his teeth to keep anything awkward from coming out of his mouth. His touch was almost clinical but Will’s body was reacting to the Alphas gentle and firm touch and he  _ really _ didn't want this to get awkward so he put his hand over Hannibal’s and gave him a shaky smile. 

"I think that enough, thank you, for helping. It really feels better." Hannibal looked at him with dark, dark eyes for a moment, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip before giving him a faint smile. 

"Of course, I am glad to help." Will smiled back as his heart and mind racing. 

Hannibal left soon after and Will got dressed, pulling the clothes he had on yesterday on and putting the pajamas Hannibal had given him into the laundry basket in the room. He came downstairs and found the sun shining brightly throughout the house, light giving the dark wood floors a golden sheen. Hannibal handed him a container full of eggs cooked with chicken thighs, cayenne pepper, and scallions and bid him farewell with a small, genuine smile. Will really couldn't resist returning it. 

On his way home, the Veterinarian clinic called him and told him that the dogs were good and he could pick them up right away. Will almost crashed into another car as he made a  _ very  _ illegal U-turn on the snow slick roads and rushed to the hospital. His faint leg pain and destructive headache took a back seat as he pumped on the gas.

His dogs were ready, waiting for him. 

***

They were ecstatic to see him, greeting him with happy snuffles, but not as energetic as usual. The Doctor explained that they would be a bit lazy and lethargic for a while but they didn't have a negative reaction to the sedative. Will was thankful but found himself extremely frustrated and upset. 

He settled them all at home, getting them the comfort that they all desired by laying in the middle of them. Buster sat on his stomach and Winston was curled around his head like a pillow. Will didn't mind his loneliness, but being loved and feeling warmth wasn't something he was too good for. He should probably double-bolt the doors in his house, he thought. His only priority was truthfully getting a shotgun. His father's old hunting rifle and his FBI-issued gun but for an alpha, he'd need something with a bit more punch. His alpha would be coming for what he thought he deserved, he'd give him what he truly deserved.

****

Will stood in the river near his home, the sun glowing beautifully over the horizon. He threw out his line, contentment filling him fully and warming him against the early morning cold. 

Something tugged at his line and with a smile, he quickly reeled in the fish that took the bait. 

It was when the line ran out that he realized he wasn't dragging in a fish. It was his own corpse, his hook lodged in his cheek and his eyes pallid and vacant with death. Will started and dropped the pole, fear crippling his legs as he fell into the shallow river. He panted, trying to swim back to shore against the suddenly tumultuous waves but a cold, stiff hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him down. His shouts were transformed into bubbles as his head was brought underwater. He kicked and struggled but the hand’s grip did not slacken. Will looked at the creature that carried his face, his corpse's eyes black underwater and a slight smile teasing at its lips. 

" _ Soon _ ." Its thoughts pierced Will's mind as he screamed. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE hardest chapter to write T.T, it would not let me write it!!!!!!!!! I hope you all enjoyed.


	6. La Lune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UPRIGHT: Illusion, fear, anxiety, subconscious, intuition
> 
> REVERSED: Release of fear, repressed emotion, inner confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so...this is the longest chapter I've written lol. Nearly 10k words. Wow. Please enjoy.

For the first time since he began consulting for the FBI, Will was tempted to drop a case. Family murders. To say Will was uncomfortable would be an understatement of massive proportions. The cases he'd been taking lately have been hitting harder, affecting him more and more, and this one had taken the proverbial cake. His mental fortitudes were wearing thin.

He had to leave his pups, albeit in the care of Hannibal Lecter, who promised that nothing would come to harm them. He trusted him to keep them safe while he was in Connecticut. It was probably the first time that he consciously realized how much he trusted the Alpha. He had never given him a reason not to, and he was perhaps the closest thing Will had to a genuine friend. The only one who didn't seem put off by his oddities and neuroses. He tried not to focus on how pathetic that made him feel. Only his psychiatrist was willing to be his friend. God.

Will's main issue at the moment wasn't his dogs or his mysterious stalker. His problem was the extreme, unexpected reaction he had endured the second he seated himself at the Turner's dining room table. In the same seat that their killer had sat in, Will assumed the criminal's mind bones and flesh and wore them like a tightly fitted leather suit. He felt the fear, adrenaline, and pain as he killed the family and shot each of them to death. Even the little ones. This case had his sanity fraying at the edges as he struggled to shed the killer's skin  _ off _ .

_ Family Values _

Jack Crawford's stern gaze seemed to be permanently glued to Will since the moment he told him about the case in the car. He could obviously sense his distress, but even if he couldn't, the mass murder of families would probably be the most distressing subject for anyone sane but even more so for Omegas. They were creatures who existed as the backbone of the household. Family meant everything to them. 

Will wasn't a regular omega, not by a long shot, and he had said as much to Jack when he first awkwardly tried to give him an out.

"I know we could use your help, but this, this is hard even for me," Jack said, well-meaning. Will gave him a flat smile. Jack had been more skittish around him after the Hobbs case, and Will could see the worry churning behind the Alpha's eyes if Will so much as stumbled in the crime scenes.

"You don't have to worry Jack, this won't break me." He told him earlier before he entered the house. Jack didn't look convinced. If anything, he seemed even more troubled.

As the details of the murders filled his bones, his muscles moving with the phantom weight of the gun, as he shot every single one of the people sitting around the perfect family dinner, Will couldn't help but wonder if Jack was right to worry.

He felt like he was  _ cracking _ .

Will took a long, stuttering breath as he finally felt his consciousness fully return to his body. Pieces of the killer stuck to him like damp glue as he struggled to reorient himself.

Jack led him around the house, brightened by the sunlight streaming through the windows. The scent of death and decay was familiar yet, still nauseating to be around after all the years of being exposed to it. Will resisted scratching his beard nervously as he followed Jack around. 

"Karen and Roger Turner, childhood sweethearts, owned a successful real estate business," Jack narrated as he pointed to the bodies. They were successful and in love, perhaps a jealous friend or associate? No, Will thought, it couldn't be something as asinine as that. This couldn't have been done by someone familiar, not enough passion for something like this.

"Pillars of the community, three children." Jack read off a clipboard he held in his hand. The bright flashing of cameras around them was making Will's head throb. He forced his eyes open to soak up every detail of the scene.

"Minus one." The picture of a small, pale boy was prominent in the collection yet there wasn't a body at the dinner table that matched his. Will pulled his brows together, his lips pursed.

"Uh, a son. Disappeared around a year ago" At this, Will's eyebrows touched his hairline in confusion. The rest of the family photos that were put on display were covered in blood and carnage. He picked up one that had the same awkward-looking boy, standing hesitantly on unsteady feet. Large glasses on pale skin. Wide, toothy smile. The same one missing from dinner but a little older.

"Jesse. Last confirmed sighting had him boarding an RV at a rest stop on route 47." Jack had a troubled expression on his face. His frustration permeated the air like dust. 

"Possible runaway, probable abduction."

"Or both," Will said as he put the picture back down with a heavy sigh.

"When misery rains, it pours."

Will walked across the room, looking at all the blood-covered pictures of merry faces and broad smiles. Different settings, all the same faces of joy and happiness. 

"False faces in family portraits. Layers and layers of lies, betrayed by a sad glint in a child's eyes." He recited slowly as Jimmy pushed by with a large camera, almost knocking Will down in the process.

" _ Norman Rockwell _ with a bullet." He said cheekily before taking a picture of all the photographs and trinkets Will stood near. Will grimaced in slight irritation at Price's antics. He studied the photos more, gloved fingers trailing across expensive wooden counters. What motive could the killer have to want to slaughter an entire family? 

"Alright, any signs of forced entry?" Jack asked as he walked by them. There was a slight tremble in his voice, the only physical manifestation of his anxiety and agitation. Will bit the inside of his cheek, sympathy for him filling his chest. Jack was rarely bothered by cases, even the most violent ones. But this was different.

"No broken windows or torn screens. It's all sealed up tight." Beverly said, her face paler than usual and her lips pulled into a rare frown. 

"Yeah, they probably walked through the front door," Jack said as he looked down at the slumped bodies of the victims. 

Will tuned out the voices speaking of bullet holes and elevated termination as he picked up a small picture of Karen Turner giving a loving kiss to Jesse, his face the very picture of childhood joy. Flashbacks of his own childhood forced their way through his psyche, not nearly as sweet or loving as the one Jesse appeared to have. 

"When was Jesse abducted?" He asked suddenly, turning to Jack, his eyes foggy as his gift slid past his skin and touched the bloody pictures. Warmth and love radiated from the photos. Slight insecurity rang in the back of his mind.

"Um, a little over a year ago." Jack said, crouching near the end of the dining room table, reaching for something on the ground.

Will nodded slowly before turning back to the image. His empathy was ringing bells, sounding off to inconsistencies. 

Something wasn't right.

***

"I'm glad we didn't have guns in my house," Zeller said, a bitter expression on his face, a history of being terrorized by siblings flashing in the back of his eyes. 

Will was nestled in the corner of the room, back safely pressed into the nook near the door, keeping him composed. His vacant gaze was placed firmly in the adjacent corner. He struggled to keep his mind empty as Jack pulled back the plastic sheets covering the dead bodies. 

"Would've shot my sisters just to get em out of the bathroom."

"I  _ liked  _ having a big family," Beverly said with a smile in her voice, ever the contrarian. 

"My parents gave me a gift; a twin. Who wouldn't want  _ two  _ of me?" Jimmy added with a smug chuckle.

"Let me guess. Only child?" Zeller said, pointing to Will. Will dragged his gaze from the corner to place it on him.

"Why do you say that?" He asked slowly. 

"Cause family friction is usually a catalyst for personality development." He said with a prickly smugness on his face. Will took a deep breath in and rolled back his shoulders before breathing out. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Zeller's irritating attitude toward him.

"I was the oldest, so all the friction rolled downhill," Beverly said loudly, smiling at Will. Trying to ease the building tension.

"Yes, all the tension and responsibility heaped on the firstborn children prepares them for success in the future." Jack added, breaking his silence as he revealed the last body.

"My baby sister got away with  _ murder _ . She had them all fooled." Beverly grumbled, flicking something off of her gloves with an annoyed glint in her eye. 

"I thought middles were the problem." Jimmy said, his hands pushed into his coat pockets. Zeller smirked. 

"Middle's the sweet spot." He announced with his back straight and shoulders pushed back, the very image of self-confidence.

"Always trying to figure out where they fit in," Will drawled, his dark blue eyes fixed on Zeller. Zeller looked back at him, his confusion melting away any residual smugness.

"They can be, um, great politicians," Will said pointedly at him as he walked out of his corner to stand next to Jack. Zeller's confident smirk returned hastily, almost as if waiting for Will to breathe life into it.

"Or, lousy ones," Will finished, giving Zeller a petty look. He glared at him in return. Will smirked.

"All the victims have defensive wounds except for Mrs.Turner." Jack noticed, placing a laminated picture into Will's hands. Will's lips were tugged into a deep frown as he looked at the picture. Mrs. Turner's head in the middle of a blood-red plate, her blood pooling in the bottom, while her eyes were wide open. Her face wasn't full of anger or hatred. 

"There's forgiveness." Will breathed out as he recognized the expression. It was as clear as day. 

"What kind of victim forgives the killer at the moment of death?" 

Will stared at the photograph, something pulling hard in his chest. He swallowed wetly.

"A mother."

***

"Tell me about your mother."

"That's some  _ lazy _ psychiatry, Dr.Lecter. Low hanging fruit." Will drawled, his eyes dark and shuttered as he forced a smile onto his lips.

"I suspect that fruit is on a high branch. Very difficult to reach."

"So was my mother. Never knew her."

Will's eyes dropped from Hannibal's and landed on the beige pattern on his tie as he gripped the leather arms of his chair.

"An interesting place to start." 

Will took in a sharp breath and looked up and around the room, his legs pressed tightly against the legs of the chair he was sitting on. He felt trapped. He didn't want to do this. Digging up the past was rarely useful for him. He doubted therapy was going to change that. 

"Tell me about your mother. Let's start there." He deflected, eyes fluttering beneath the lights. Will was indeed a beauty, even in his most troubled moments, Hannibal thought. 

Hannibal took a slight breath before speaking steadily. 

"Both my parents died when I was very young. The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robertas when I was 16." His eyes were glued to Will's eyes as they shifted every which way, clearly uncomfortable. Will belatedly realized that this could be possibly triggering for Hannibal. Both parents dead. Will at least had his omegan father to care for him. He felt like a bit of a prick.

Will looked at Hannibal's shoes, the warm brown leather shining faintly beneath the light. It was probably genuine, very unlike the cheap faux stuff Will could afford. 

"You have orphan in common with Abigail Hobbs." Will observed.

Hannibal tilted his head slightly to the left, brushing something off of his perched knee. 

"I think we'll discover you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail. She's already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological. "

Will took a deep breath and rubs his hands over his knees in search of comfort. 

"Something so foreign about family... Like an ill-fitting suit. I never connected to the concept." He said, shifting further into the dark leather seats, his eyes fading slightly into mist as he tried to keep the sour memories of his 'family' at bay. 

"You created a family for yourself."

"Ah, well, I connected, uh, family of strays, as you already know. And thank you for feeding them while I was away." Hannibal simply nodded away the gratitude before continuing. 

"I was referring to Abigail." Will's small smile slipped away, his face dropping into one of distant sadness. He looked away from Hannibal entirely, his eyes focused on the golden lamp standing on his desk.

"Tell me about the Turner family, were they affluent? Well to do?" Hannibal asked, tactfully diverging from the subject. 

"They  _ lived  _ like they had money." He said, voice slightly scratchy. 

"Did your family have money, Will?"

" _ No _ , we were poor." He said sharply, words coming out as if Hannibal had punched him in the sternum for them.

"I followed my father from the boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville to, uh, lake boats on Erie." He continued with a small bittersweet smile on his face.

"Always the new boy at school, always the stranger." Hannibal's voice was a low purr. He could imagine a young Will, a small omegan boy following his father around the south, with big, round eyes and a shy smile. Trying to figure out his place in the world. Hannibal would help that boy find his place.

" _ Always _ ." Will affirmed with a smile.

"What grudge was Mrs. Turner's Killer harboring against her?"

Will thought about the scene, the bodies laying neatly onto the table, Mrs. Turner's expression beneath the bullet hole. He swallowed tightly.

"Motherhood."

Hannibal's face twitched slightly. 

"Not  _ motherhood _ ." He corrected. "A perversion of it."

Will was silent as his mind raced, confusion, detachment and overall sorrow had plummeted his already weak mood to the gallows.

Hannibal watched him closely, watching his face resist expressing itself. Will was troubled yet was fighting his raging emotions bravely. 

"I have something for you." He said, unfolding his legs and standing up. He loomed over him for a few moments. Will had to force himself not to jump up as well. 

"You didn't have to get me anything, Dr.Lecter." Will protested as Hannibal reached into a drawer in his desk. He unearthed a tan, thin package, neatly wrapped in thick twine. It was flat and as Hannibal came closer, Will could tell it was a book. 

"Please accept my gift, you've been through quite a bit of uncertainty lately, perhaps this could give you comfort and if not, some amusement at least." He said, standing before will's widely opened legs. Will hesitantly accepted the thin package with a deeply furrowed brow. Hannibal's eyes gleamed like onyx beneath his strong brow in muted pleasure.

Will slid his fingers beneath the bow, feeling the deceptively expensive paper slide beneath his clammy hands. He plucked at the bow sharply, once, and the package unraveled. There was a familiar book beneath the brown paper and white packing papers, garish yellow and bright colors. 

_ Tarot and the Occult: Practices of fortune-telling and their integration within everyday life _

Will felt his eyebrows lift as he looked up from the book. An incredulous laugh escaped him. He pulled the book out of the papers entirely and angled it, watching the plastic sheen glint beneath the overhead light. It was something he would see in the night markets in Louisiana. Under the red and purple LED lights surrounded by long chains, booze, and animal bones. Next to those same stalls would be beautiful women selling fried okra and pastels with broad smiles and thunderous laughter. He was struck with an almost violent pang of homesickness.

"I  _ could  _ use some foresight huh?" He laughed gently as he rubbed his thumb across the book. His fingerprint was a clear smudge on the waxy material. "Thank you, Dr.Lecter, I don't have much interest in the art of foretelling, but your gift does mean a lot to me." Hannibal simply gave him a sly smile and nodded. 

"Of course, Will." 

***

Will doesn't touch the book. It lies on the top of dusty, unused sheet music on top of his  _ wildly  _ out of tune piano. It's not out of aversion by any means. His attention is mostly swallowed by the current case. Even when he's home with his pups, no trace of any other human around, he's too tense, too stressed to truly enjoy his alone time. Sleep evaded him at every turn, so he simply decided to stop trying. Will gathered his blankets and pillow and went to sit on his couch. His dogs followed him and curled around him snugly as he stared at the windows on the far wall. After a while, he found himself locked in an almost meditative state, so unaware of everything around him that the glint of the golden sun rising behind rose-colored clouds was the only thing that made him realize that time had passed. With tired blinks, he put on the coffee and peeled off his clothing on the way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, rinsed, and reached on the highest shelf of his medicine cabinet for his suppressants.

His fingers landed on dry wood.

Will frowned and slid his fingers to the left and the right, only to find the shelf empty. Now that couldn't be right. He took a single pill once every week to regulate his cycle so that he didn't have heats, nor did he give off any powerful scents.

Will checked the rest of the cabinet, looked on the floor, looked behind the sink, and it remained gone. Will took a shaky breath as he walked back to his room to search fruitlessly for his missing suppressants. Will's heart was racing as he slid a trembling hand through his dark curls. He could have forgotten that he had taken them all. He was due for a doctors' visit, anyway. Yeah, that was probably it, he reasoned as his coffee maker screeched at him from across the house. 

_ "Or the intruder took them."  _ A tiny voice in the back of his head supplied and Will really wished it didn't. 

"Fuck…  _ Fuck _ !" He shouted, running his hands through his hair, pulling it tightly as he went to retrieve his phone from the couch. Did he take them the first time? Or was he around again? The lock wasn't tampered with and there was no trace scent of burning rubber sitting around. The first time, then. 

Will dialed the number to his OB/GYN only to realize that it was 6 a.m., and the office didn't open for a few more hours. He'd call later. He  _ needed  _ to make an appointment. He was beyond stressed, drowning in realizations he wasn't prepared to deal with. He really couldn't afford to deal with the pains of his biology, which had only gotten more and more aggressive and hostile with age. His body was adamant in trying to get him to have a family before it was too late, and Will was entirely almost certain he didn't want to give any poor child his unstable genes. 

He heaved a sigh before grabbing his favorite mug, one with the face of a dopey faced beagle, and poured himself a cup of bitter coffee. 

This day was going to be a long one. 

*** 

Will found himself in the lecture hall 5 minutes too late due to a horrible traffic jam on the way to Quantico. His head hurt and he was tempted to stop somewhere and buy a pair of shades because every light was far too bright. He was already late, so he would have to deal with looking like an idiot with a permanent squint. The hall was already full and everyone was seated by the time he had stumbled in, looking slightly crazed with a deep frown on his face. 

He was giving a lecture on killers and some of their behaviors in cases that involved sexual assault when Jack Crawford stormed into the hall like he owned it. 

"All right, class dismissed, everyone out." He swiveled around sharply and glared at the students' hesitant faces. "What did I just say? Let's GO!" Jack bellowed at his startled students. They all began to leave, shuffling one after the other as Will dropped the document he was reading from down. He took a deep breath and rubbed at his temples as the classroom cleared. Jack was visibly agitated as he sat on Will's desk.

"You're making it difficult to provide an education,  _ Jack _ ." Will said tiredly, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. 

"We found a match to the prints we found at the Turner home. They belong to a 13 boy from Reston, Virginia, his name is Conner Frist."

" _ Another _ kid?" Well asked incredulously, his irritation at Jack's intrusion melting away.

"Another  _ missing  _ kid. He vanished 10 months ago, the case was never solved."

Will took off his glasses with a heavy sigh before pausing.

"...how many kids in the Frist family?"

"Three, just like the Turner family." Jack sighed out, his shoulders slumped forward. 

"We're ready to go when you are, and you're ready to go now, so let's go." He said, standing up and turning toward him. His face was resigned almost hopelessly.

Will bit the inside of his cheek as he realized why Jack came and sent everyone away.

"You're expecting a crime scene."

*

Will's stomach churned violently as he stared, haunted, at the corpse of the burned child. The scent of charred flesh was had him lightheaded, but he couldn't look away.  _ What kind of person would do this? _

Anger, vengeance, and  _ disappointment  _ toward a child. Will silently cursed his existence, regretful of his edict memory. He would never forget this image.

Jack's eyes were a firm pressure on the nape of his neck, and Will forced himself away from the bodies. He sat upon the empty table as theories flew above and around him. Disownment and bitterness sunk into his bones as he realized what was happening. The charred child was rebellious, didn't listen, didn't obey. Imperfect, in some way. He was biting through his nail beds. He left the lab in search of answers. 

He called his gynecologist's office and set up an appointment for that week before he got off. Will felt overwhelmed by everything. 

He found that the boys on file were not average, underweight, and on medication. Not unlike himself when he was their age. He let Jack and Beverly know before he left Quantico in a daze.

***

"Good evening, Will. Please,  _ come in _ ." Hannibal greeted with a genuine looking smile, his hair golden bronze beneath the darkened light and his suit a red and black checkered fit. It made him look like he was covered in blood. Will hurried into the office, dropping his bag onto the couch he slept on the first time he came to the office. Something fell out.

"Has Christmas come early?" he asked as he pointed at the gift-wrapped package that was falling out of his bag. "Or late?" Hannibal asked, curious. Will paced around the office, his hand rubbing his beard in anxiety. 

"It  _ was  _ for Abigail." He said as he slid out of his jacket, Hannibal's office was just on the edge of too warm.

"Was?"

"I thought better of it. Wasn't thinking straight." Will mumbled as pointedly looked away from the gift. Abigail wasn't going to want anything like that from him. He wasn't her  _ father _ .

"I-I was upset when I bought it,  _ maybe _ still am." He walked further away from his bag and walked toward the back of the room, his eyes shuttered. He meandered to Hannibal's desk and pushed around the tools laying on top. Full of too much nervous energy. Hannibal could smell the distress coming off of him in waves.

"What is it?" Hannibal asked.

"Magnifying glass. Used for fly tying gear."

"Teaching her how to fish. Her father taught her how to hunt."

"That's why I thought better of it." He said as he looked around, desperate for something to do.

Hannibal tilted his head toward him, curiosity bleeding through his dark gaze.

"Feeling  _ paternal _ , Will?"

Will turned slowly at that, not shifting or evasive, only piercing as he looked Hannibal in his eyes.

"Aren't  _ you _ ?" He asked, anxiety making his tone forceful.

"Yes." Hannibal replied, not even taking a moment to hesitate. Will let out a deep breath and looked away.

"Our good friend Dr. Bloom has warned against taking too personal of an interest in Abigail's welfare." said Hannibal. Will's face did an interesting thing, his jaw tightening as his mouth pulled back into half a snarl. He turned away, his back facing Hannibal. This behavior would be horribly rude, even from a patient, but Hannibal didn't mind. He only found his curiosity growing tenfold. Will showed signs of overprotectiveness, visibly upset at the idea of not being able to interact with Abigail.

"Tell me, why are you so angry?"

"I'm angry about those boys, I'm angry because when I find them, I can't help them, I can't give them back what they just gave away!" Will's voice broke and cracked with emotion as the full weight of the situation fell onto him. Hannibal was silently contemplative for a short moment.

"Family." He said.

"Yeah," Will said quietly, facing the wall. "We call them the lost boys."

"Abigail's lost too," Hannibal said as Will furthered their distance, walking closer and closer to the bookshelf that stood against the wall. They were silent for a long moment. Hannibal looked away, mouth moving in thought before he spoke calculatingly.

"And perhaps it's our responsibility,  _ yours and mines, _ to help her find her way. Together." He offered easily.

At this, Will startled and slowly turned around. His eyebrows furrowed and pulled together at what the Alpha was implying. That Abigail Hobbs was... theirs? Will's heart began racing at an uneasy tempo at the picture Hannibal had painted. Of Abigail coming home to him with whatever woes young adulthood had borne upon her shoulders and Will guiding her through the awkwardness of life the best he could. Hannibal being there for her when the stress was too much, and she needed wise advice from a worldly psychiatrist that she knew and trusted. And loved. Will bit his lip hard enough that he could taste blood.

He looked away from Hannibal as his chest constricted tightly. His head was spinning. He leaned against the grey pillar near the wall and closed his eyes as his tear ducts stung with unshed tears and his head throbbed angrily under the weight of his emotions. Hannibal observed him closely, the emotions tearing Will apart before his very eyes. He yearned. Deep down he wanted a family, but he wouldn't allow himself to have one. Hannibal lifted his chin and clasped his hands together gently as his eyes fell half mast.

He would give Will what he truly desired. 

***

Will went home without a word soon after. The sun has already set, the sky a dark blue pit. There were no stars in the sky and the moon was new. Darkness followed him all the way inside. He tiredly put his keys on the kitchen counter as the dogs rushed up to him. He let them out for a while as he made himself a pb&j. The bread was beginning to mold, he'd need to go shopping soon.

He opened the fridge only to remember the leftovers of breakfast he put in and forgot about weeks ago. He grimaced and pulled it out. He cleaned the ceramic dish and sniffed it to ensure that none of the moldy smell had clung to it. Will sighed lightly as he put the container on the counter, promising himself that he would not forget to return it to Hannibal. 

Hannibal. 

The Alpha basically told Will that it was their responsibility to be there for Abigail and raise her.

_ Together _ . 

"Oh,  _ God _ ." He moaned miserably, taking off his glasses and rubbing his strained eyes. What was he expecting from Will? Did he just somehow assume that because Will was an omega that things would be natu-

No, no, Hannibal wasn't  _ stupid _ . He could have painted them as Abigail's guardians, her caretakers, but he purposefully chose the word  _ fathers _ . If anything, he understood Will the most, his weaknesses and his neurosis. But he knew that beyond that, Will loved Abigail. Her gift was still sitting in his bag, on his couch, unopened. Hannibal's scent still clung to it faintly, where he had brushed on it when he gave Will his bag as he was putting on his coat. Will hesitated before walking over and picking it up. He brought it close to his nose and sighed as his body relaxed at the faint notes of pine, blood orange, and  _ Alpha _ . This was weird, but he really couldn't find it within himself to care, between the horrors he'd been exposed to lately, and the tempting potential, at an opaque dream of a family of his own...

He was allowed to be a little weird.

Will tiredly opened the front door and let all the dogs back in. He set out food and water for them and took a searing hot shower. He allowed the day to wash off of him and spin down the drain. He felt tired enough to sleep; maybe he would get a good night's rest. He set his blanket and pillows down next to the dog's beds and curled into a ball between happily wagging tails and sniffling wet noses. He drifted. 

Will had adrenaline pumping through his veins, teeth clenched as he rushed past a pool of dark red water. The sky was a bright, oppressive scarlet. The sun was blood-red, nearly black in the sky. A child held a gun to Will, threatening to shoot. Will desperately tried to speak, to tell the boy that he was fine, that he could put the gun down, but a monster wearing the face of an omegan woman materialized behind the child. She had long nails, sharp as knives and covered in blood, and she put them beneath the boy's neck almost lovingly. Will could distantly hear the raven stag cry out in pain somewhere close by. He raised his gun higher, panting. Fear and adrenaline pumped through his veins, causing his hands to shake.

_ "I'll kill him, then I'll kill you too, and then we both will be denied what we want, hmm?"  _ She purred, eyes black holes in her skull. Something grabbed him, and he looked down to find her fingers pressing into his throat, drawing blood. He looked back up and saw himself standing behind the boy, a wide, cruel smile on his face, his eyes black as coal. Will was shouting, but no sound came out of his mouth as she plunged her fingers in deeper, spilling his black blood.

He started awake, the surrounding dogs yipping nervously as he stumbled up, breath coming quickly. Sweat dripped from his hair and stuck to his fevered face. He was hyperventilating as tears spilled over his cheeks. He looked at the alarm clock near his bed, and he realized it was 3 a.m. Witching hour. He shed off his sweaty clothes and took a shower. The dogs that didn't fall back asleep trailed behind him as he moved like a zombie throughout the house. He ended up sitting on the couch again, dressed in nothing but a wool blanket over his shoulders. He watched the sunrise with glassy eyes, surrounded by gently sleeping dogs, and a knife in his heart, bleeding with every beat. 

*** 

It was capture bonding. 

It wasn't the boys themselves, going around slaughtering families. They were being  _ forced  _ to murder their own. God, he felt so stupid. 

Brothers looking for a mother. The mothers always died last.

"There's an adult, likely a woman, an omega, looking to form a family. She wants them to be  _ bursting  _ with love for her."

"She'd have to erase their families first then," Jack said, his brows furrowed tightly as Will entered his office slowly. Will nodded.

"So, she abducts them, convinces them that they will never be loved more than she will love them, and makes damn sure of it." Will nodded again and handed him a laminated piece of paper.

"A security camera in a convenience store in Alexandria, Virginia caught footage of a one Chris O'Halloran this morning. He was with an unidentified woman."

"Where's this kid's parents?" Jack met his tired gaze. 

"Fayetteville, North Carolina."

***

Will struggled to not lose his meager lunch as the FBI sedan he was strapped in, breaking the speed limit with  _ very interesting _ twists and turns. Jack looked at him and saw his green complexion and gave him a concerned look. Will waved him away nauseously.

FBI agents swarmed the house, and they just barely made it when Will saw a short person, possibly one of the boys, lifted his arm almost mechanically and aimed to shoot at the family. One of the agents nailed him in the shoulder with a bullet before he could pull the trigger, and a woman's scream was deafening. Will noticed a small boy he instantly recognized as Chris, rushed away from the scene alone, and immediately took off. His heart was pounding, and he could feel the blood flowing in his veins as he chased him. His feet beat against the pavement almost painfully as he ran beyond the white gates of the house and was struck with a wild sense of Deja Vu as he neared a pool.

"Chris, wait." He said breathlessly as he caught up. Chris held up a gun, stance tense and too narrow. Will instinctively pulled out his own.

"Don't shoot!" He barked to the FBI agent that had tailed them.

"It's okay." He said placatingly, a small purr accompanying his words in an attempt to calm the frightened boy. "Put the gun down, you're home now. Put the gun  _ down,  _ Christopher." He pleaded as he raised his weapon in surrender. Chris looked at him, confusion potent in his eyes but raw fear dominating it. He slightly let his gun hang down. The door to the shed suddenly opened, and a tall woman with strawberry blonde hair strode out. She slid behind Christopher and caressed his head slightly before putting a gun to his throat. Will was struck again by how familiar this scene was. The dark eyes of the omega, glaring at him.

"Shoot him, Christopher." She rasped. The boy shakily pulled the gun back up, tears in his eyes. Will didn't know what to do. He put his weapon down slowly and got to his knees, and whispered to the boy.

"Christopher,  _ please _ ." He begged, throat tight.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, and for a terrifying moment, Will thought something had happened to Christopher. The woman behind him stumbled and fell back as blood seeped out of her wound. The scent of iron, rust, and the sharp tang of infertility hit him as he came close to her convulsing body. He kicked away her weapon as she panted. Blood pooled around her. She looked at him, and he stared back in revulsion. She glared at him before slowly smiling at him knowingly. Something muggy and poisonous inside of him pushed against his ribcage and made his heart still in bloodlust.

As the sun barely peeked over the silver clouds, he calmly understood the depth of emotion he felt sliding between his ribs like a snake, twisting and sliding around his beating heart. He wanted to strangle her with his bare hands.

***

Will felt like his head was being split into several slices with a rusty blade as he parked before the clinic a day later. 

He leaned his head against the warm steering wheel as he tried to hold his nausea back. He breathed heavily through his teeth, nerves being fried by the weak sun, peeking beyond the clouds. He sighed and got out of the car. 

The clinic was a small, private affair that had pastel yellow walls and posters of happy babies on each wall. Will was massively uncomfortable as he walked further in. The scent of bleach and cleaning products was so strong that he scrunched his nose. There was a young omega sitting at the counter, reading some documents intently. Will had to clear his throat before the young man startled and put the documents away. He had to be in the mid-20s, scruffy blond hair and a clean-shaven face. His blue eyes looked sleepy, but Will was certain that he always looked that way. It was charming. Brian was written on his name tag.

"Oh! I'm so, so sorry, I didn't hear you come in." He stuttered out as he stood. Will only briefly raised his brows at him. 

"All good. I have an appointment for 1:55." Will said, clinging to his bag.

"Oh, let me check, sorry about that, haha." He let out a light laugh.

Brian looked down the appointment log and gave a soft ' _ oooh _ ' when he found him. Will resisted rolling his eyes. It would only hurt him at this rate. 

"Will Graham right? It's nice to meet you! You are right on time; please follow me." He said as he walked from around the counter and down a pale hallway.

"It's nice to meet you too," Will mumbled as he took off his glasses and put them into his shirt.

"Your doctor is Mrs. Leone, she's very nice and gentle, so you don't have to worry. She's very accommodating." He said brightly as they neared a pair of double doors. Brian was perky, he noticed as he followed him. He had a slight limp, favoring his left side, in such a way that reminded Will of patients who received physical therapy after breaking a leg. Fading bruises were collected around his collar, and Will had the sudden impulse to stop him. He grabbed his arm. 

Brian flinched violently, and Will dropped it immediately.

"Are you okay? I work for the FBI, so if there's anything I can do to help you, I  _ will  _ do it." He said, concern written into the hard, exhausted lines of his face. Brian had the slightest tinge of fear in his expression until he fully registered what Will said.

"O-Oh, I'm  _ okay _ ! Thank you for your concern. I'm just very clumsy." Brain waved his hands wildly, an unsteady smile wobbling on his lips as he laughed nervously. Will's frown deepened as some older scars Brian had were accentuated by his growing scarlet blush. Pale scarring under his cheek, slightly raised. Maybe a belt had caused the wound. 

"Look, you don't have to tell me everything right now, but please, take this and call me.  _ Please _ ." Will offered him one of the few cards he received from Quantico when he started teaching there. Brian's eyes dropped to Will's card then back to his grave, dark eyes skittishly. He finally took it with a shaky hand and a bent head. 

"Call me. Even if you don't want to talk about it. Even if it's just about your day." Will gave him a weak smile and only felt it grow when Brian gave him a hesitant nod. 

"Good." Will gave a smile, eyes crinkling at his lost expression. He moved past a silent Brian and opened the double doors. The lights were bright, too bright, and the scent of disinfectant was the strongest here. A tall woman with caramel skin and long greying hair was standing over a small desk. Her cheekbones were high and sharp. She was classically beautiful, he noticed as she closed the folder she was looking at and glanced at him as he approached. 

"Hello, Will Graham, I presume I am Sara Leone, your doctor for today." She said, enunciating every word clearly. Her voice was smooth and deep, rolling around an accent that he really couldn't place. 

"Yes, ma'am. I hope I'm not too late." He walked forward and shook her offered hand. She was  _ tall _ ; she probably had five inches on him. She had a powerful grip with dry palms. Maybe an alpha?

"Please, call me Sara. And you are on time. What has brought you to my office today?" She led him to the single hospital bed in the room and pulled up her stool. He sat precariously on the edge of the and set his bag down on the papery hospital sheets.

"I need new suppressants. I ran out this week, and I was hoping you could help me." He explained, scratching at his beard tiredly.

Sara hummed and crossed her legs, an inscrutable expression on her face.

"How long have you been on suppressants, Mr.Graham?"

"Since I joined the police force about 10 years ago." Sara's face dropped with shock and pulled into tight, muted horror.

"It says you are thirty-eight years old on your files, have you been taking breaks from them regularly? "Will shook his head, and he really had to give it to her. Even though she was obviously appalled, she didn't allow it to show much in her face beyond the subtle tells.

"Not really. Was always in a job surrounded by high octane, knot headed alphas, couldn't really afford to." 

She raised her brow. 

He winced as he remembered he was speaking to an alpha. He shifted on the bed awkwardly, an embarrassed flush bleeding onto his cheeks. He stared at Sara's wristwatch, mute.

"Well then, tell me," she began, pulling out a pen from her coat and reaching for a clipboard beside him. "Have you been suffering from any light sensitivity, restless sleep, or suicidal thoughts lately?" Will raised his brows as he popped his knuckles nervously. 

"Uh, sleep has been  _ complicated  _ for me the past few months. I guess I have to say yes to the light sensitivity considering the light in here is melting my retinas." He said jokingly. Sara frowned. She stood and walked near the door, adjusting a small white knob near the wall, and couldn't hold back the sigh of relief that escaped him when the room darkened considerably. She gave him a minute smile. 

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, no suicidal ideations or thoughts. I have been pretty nauseous lately, though." He droned. She nodded politely. 

"Well, I must say, Mr. Graham, I cannot give you a prescription for new suppressants because your body is in the process of rejecting them. "Will blanched. Every muscle in his body tensed simultaneously. Her calm stare burned a hole in his face. 

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry to say, but suppressants were not meant for long-term use. I recommend getting a toxicology report soon to see the extent of the damage left by the suppressants. Nausea, vomiting, fever, sensitivity to light, sounds, and touch are signs of your liver and pancreas shutting down due to the excess amount of artificial hormones." Will could feel his stomach drop as she began writing on her clipboard. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm going to prescribe some vitamins and something to flush out the residual chemicals within your system. I'd suggest asking for a brief holiday at work, considering that this will cause your heat cycle to begin again. There are strong side effects such as violent mood swings, dizziness, and drowsiness" Will dropped his head into his hands as his mind raced. This was bad. He had vacation days collected from years of working nonstop, but the thought of having to deal with sweaty, slick-filled heats alone in the middle of nowhere was beyond a nightmare. 

"Is there any alternative I can use, a-a different brand of suppressants, maybe?" Will was almost begging. He could tell by the straight line in her back that she wouldn't change her mind. The doctor gave him a slight sympathetic frown. 

"I'm afraid not. You need to get the suppressants out of your system completely, or else very real damage could be done to your internal organs. The first heat you will experience will likely be very difficult, but each one after should be easier and easier." 

Will felt like screaming. Of course, he had to deal with his traitorous body. He'd been ignoring it for years, now was its chance to enact its fiery vengeance upon him. Will wanted to pull the hair out of his skull and shout.

She stood and neatly ripped off the prescriptions and handed them to him. Will felt lightheaded as he stood and took it.

"It won't be so bad. Come back soon for the tests, I'm sure you'll manage your job with proper scheduling and scent blockers." She said kindly. Scene blockers weren't effective for preheat, so that was half a week full of awkward interactions with strangers and even worse with people he knew. A groan sat low in his throat.

"Well, thank you anyway, doctor, I'll schedule an appointment when I can." He said tiredly as he slung his bag around his shoulder. She gave him a small parting smile. 

He left the clinic, no sign of Brian in the lobby as he passed through. He gritted his teeth as he rushed through the light rain to his car.

Fuck.

He really had not anticipated this outcome. Tears of frustration slipped out of the corner of his eyes as he almost blindly pulled out of the parking lot under dark grey skies. 

Jack was going to flay him alive.

***

After stopping by the pharmacy for his medication and the connected grocer for some food supplies. He took his pills dry in the car before driving home. Will finally made it to his solitary white home after driving through torrential rain and couldn't wait to fall into bed. He was beyond exhausted. 

The dogs rushed to meet him and after giving everyone a socially acceptable amount of pets; he let them out. He cracked his neck as he hunted for something easy to make. He was absolutely ravenous, but the second he tried to eat a meager bowl of cereal, his stomach twisted miserably and threatened to spill itself all over his kitchen floor. He was staring at the bowl with a challenge in his eyes when his phone buzzed obnoxiously in his back pocket. 

He pulled it out quickly, hoping that maybe Brian had gathered the courage to contact him after all, but to his surprise, it was Hannibal Lecter. 

"H-Hello?" Will cleared his thought with a grimace, his tears from earlier left a rasp in his throat.

_ "Good evening Will, how are you?" _

Hannibal's voice was still somehow butter-like and smooth over his tinny speaker.

"Ah, as well as one could hope, I suppose. How are you?"

_ "I am doing very well, thank you for asking. " _ There was a slight pause and the familiar sound of meat sizzling on hot oil. The sudden sensation of being watched climbed over his spine like hundreds of ants. He tensed, gripping his phone with too much force.

"Not that I don't appreciate your call, but was there something in particular you needed?" He tried to word it as politely as he could, but it was a good question. There were very few phone calls between them. 

_ "Is it wrong for a friend to check-in after your particularly troublesome case?" _ He asked, not offended by Will's awkward rudeness. 

"Let me guess, Jack told you what happened at the scene and he's worried about me shattering into tiny, unusable pieces. Do you spend a lot of time discussing me with Jack?" He asked bitterly as he gazed out of his window. The sun was setting over the horizon. Deep purples and dark blues bled over the surrounding fields. An unseen gaze settled on him heavily. He really didn't want to deal with this right now.

_ "You realize that I watch the news, Will," _ Hannibal said dryly. Fuck, that's right. The story would have made it to national broadcasting by now, probably before then, knowing Freddie Lounds's tenacity. 

"I hope you heard it from real journalists instead of Lounds's gossip rags." Will stared at his bowl of brightly colored cereal, slowly growing soggier by the second. He really didn't want to waste it. 

Hannibal made a sound that was suspiciously similar to a scoff over the phone. Will found a smile crawling over his lips.

" _ Of course not. I am above such sensationalist drivel _ ." He said, a purposefully snooty tone shading his words. Will chuckled into the phone, his posture relaxing unwittingly. He took a hesitant spoon full of cereal. It didn't instantly come back up, so he considered it a success.

"Apologises, my good sir. I shan't assume such a foolish image of you ever in the future, I swear it." He said, brandishing a posh accent of his own. Hannibal's deep, slow laugh traveled over the sound waves and planted a shiver down his spine. A furious blush settled over his cheekbones. They were silent for a while, taking comfort in the shared presence, even over the phone. Will swallowed down his soggy cereal while the sound of slow chopping came over the phone. Will stared at the bottom of his cracked bowl with a slight frown for a moment as he tried to put his scrambled thoughts into words. 

"What do you know about premonitions, of visions in dreams?" He asked, slowly realizing that he kind of sounded a bit like a lunatic. His shoes bumped into countertops slightly as he slumped forward. The chopping paused for a moment before resuming. 

_ "Why do you ask? Did you have a strange dream again?" _

"You could  _ say _ that." He began, his voice unsteady. "I'll just say that the confrontation with the lost boys, with the woman, the omega...it wasn't my first time experiencing it." There was a slight pause over the line.

_ "Another case of Deja vu, perhaps?" _

"No, no, I literally dreamt that I was at the same residence, the same pool was nearby but," he swallowed. "It was full of blood. T-The woman had horns and sharp nails and threatened to kill Chris. I know how I sound." He was almost leaning over his counter in strain. The cereal in his stomach rumbled sourly, and he could feel the sides of his face tingle in nausea. 

_ "So it's not Deja Vu, but an actual vision. Have you ever considered that your gift goes beyond simple empathy and more into something supernatural, Will?"  _ Will barked out a shocked laugh. 

"I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you, it just, I really want to rule that as impossible but to do so would... I would have to deny what I saw and felt."

_ "You would have to betray yourself and what you know to be." _

Will nodded but realized belatedly that Hannibal couldn't see him. He felt a little woozy. The medicine must have kicked in.

"Yeah. I've lived too long with a wild imagination to doubt what my brain can cook up."

_ "I think it is wise for you to trust yourself, even in moments of confusion. When facing the unknown, there is nothing more grounding than being able to look at yourself as a reliable source. I am also here for you, Will, always." _

"An anchor in the tide," Will drawled. 

_ "Made of iron and steel." _

Will's lips curled into a warm smile before his stomach suddenly roiled, his vision blurred slightly at the edges. He dropped his phone on the kitchen counter and rushed to his sink to vomit. 

He could hear his name being called out, small and tinny under the sound of his retching. Cereal and bile forced their way out of his stomach as he heaved violently. Will turned on his sink and watched the colored milk rush down the drain through wet eyelashes. Will rinsed his mouth quickly and dried his face on me of the dishtowels near him. He swayed for a moment before stumbling back to his phone.

"Hello?" He called out, voice torn to shreds.

_ "Will, are you alright? Do you need me to come over?" _ Hannibal's voice was full of genuine concern, prompting a curl of pleasure down Will's spine. He could hear the distinct sound of car keys hitting one another over the line, and he sat up abruptly. 

"No! I mean, yes, I'm fine, please don't bother yourself, it's late." he insisted as he walked to his front door. He called the dogs in. They meandered in one by one as he looked around. It was dark now.

_ "Are you sure Will, I could be there in less than an hour."  _

"I promise I'm fine. Milk must have gone bad." He lied. "I promise I'll go to bed as soon as we hang up." Will could hear the hesitation on the other line and sigh. 

"If I don't feel better in the morning* I'll call and let you know, Doctor Lecter." Hannibal seemed to chew this over before the sound of his front door shutting and locking came through the phone. 

_ "Very well. Make sure you stay hydrated and warm." _ He said in what Will assumed was his doctor's voice. He smiled.

"Yes, sir."

_ "Good night Will, have a pleasant evening, and don't be afraid to call if you need anything." _ He said with a smile in his voice.

"Same to you, and I will, Hannibal."

The line was cut, and Will couldn't help the stupid little grin that covered his face.

He locked his doors and double-checked the windows before he shed his clothing. The feeling of being watched had yet to dissipate. It had only grown over time, and Will made sure the shotgun he had purchased was constantly in arm's reach. He set out everyone's food to eat before going to shower. When he came back out, he noticed that almost everyone's dog bowls were only half-eaten at most. He furrowed his brow as the dogs milled around lazily, following him with tired eyes.

"You guys had a long day too, huh?" He asked, rubbing Winston's head as he whined at him. 

"Let's go to bed then." He said. He was about to leave his living room when a bright color caught the corner of his eye. The book Hannibal gave him. Considering Hannibal's words and his odd dream, he figured that it couldn't hurt. With a pinched expression, Will picked it up and took it with him for some late-night reading. Maybe he would learn something interesting after all. 

***

Will dreamt of the howling, icy winds of winter seeping deep in his bones. The moon was a tiny sliver of light in the night, but it illuminated enough for him. Towers stood around him, reaching into the night sky and almost blocking his view of the moon. A searing hand landed on his shoulder, burning a hole through his naked flesh, and he slowly turned to see the stag man standing behind him, his antlers looming majestically over him, a statuesque figure. His face was expressionless, yet Will could feel the monster's unbidden pleasure, its delight at what Will had done. It held Will's arms up and lifted his legs as it poured oil over his pale flesh, tainting him.

Will allowed his head to roll back, neck spread into a vulnerable display of pale flesh to the monster. The beast behind him snarled deeply, a guttural sound of sheer pleasure at the easy presentation of submission, opening its wide mouth and placing its sharp, needle-like teeth delicately on the skin of Will's neck. He shivered violently. A warbling moan slid through his heavy lips. Will knew what the beast wanted. He knew what the creature wanted as much, as much as he knew what he wanted. He wanted to mark him, as his own, as the same kind of monster. Will trembled with feverish excitement, waiting for the bite that never came.

He blinked, and the scene warped. Frost covered grass melted into the pavement, concrete, and bright city lights.

Loud hoofbeats of the raven stag echoed on cobblestone, drawing Will between two of the largest towers. It wasn't until he stopped that he realized he was dragging something. 

To his muted horror, Will looked down and saw that he was dragging along his own dead body. The raven stag pushed up against him, it's hot huff warming his frozen bones like the summer sun. 

The stag man asked him, " _ What will you do with your prize? _ " He breathed hotly into Will's neck, his breath a memory of the fire that warmed Will entirely. His head didn't hurt, not here. He only felt waves and waves of euphoria crash over him as something wet and dark dripped steadily from his sore fingers.

Will gazed at the judging yet silent moon for a while before responding to the monster behind him. His kin. 

_ "Release my fear. Walk the path of Illumination. Consume my intuition." _ He heard his voice recite, distant, almost as if he were leagues away.

The monster behind him purred in delight, it's hand curling around Will's throat with an unspoken threat and promise of a thorough wintery death and the blooming, warm heat of rebirth. Will shivered in the monster's tight grasp as a blade was placed into his bloody hands. 

_ "Perfect, my dear Will." _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you, everyone, for your lovely comments. without them, I don't think I could have made it this far. I truly mean that.


	7. l'empereur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UPRIGHT: Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure
> 
> REVERSED: Domination, excessive control, lack of discipline, inflexibility

To say Hannibal Lecter was merely ecstatic would be an act of _gross_ understatement. The second his dear Will had hung up the phone with slightly slurred words, he immediately grabbed a plethora of supplies and made quick work of the long drive to Wolf trap. 

Hannibal had a solid grip on his self-control but found himself breaking several laws as he rushed to reach Will’s home beneath the heavy sleet. The roads were wet and precariously slippery, but he drove with single-minded focus and concentration. The sun was setting beyond the heavy dark clouds, but no light filtered through. Hannibal did not prefer to work in the rain by any means, but he was forced into action. He had a date, not with his intriguing and teetering Will, _no_ not yet, but with the Alpha who was brave enough to try to lay claim on what belonged to him. 

_His_ mate.

The idea was so ridiculous to Hannibal that it never ceased to pull out a long, irritated laugh from him at the sheer audacity. This young Alpha was terribly naïve if he genuinely thought he could understand and love someone like Will Graham. Ambitious, if nothing else.

Hannibal rarely had issues with controlling his desire. He had spent months and years in his childhood living with less than the minimum for survival. It molded his heart into something stiff and not easily moved. If he had wanted, it was at the very lowest level of desire, never enough to pull an exorbitant amount of emotion or effort for him. He enjoyed the good things in life, such as excellent food, art, and his wealth. He didn’t feel anger, pain, joy, or lust in significant quantities anymore. Irritation was the only thing he chose not to control; it often led to many beautiful dinner parties for those in his social circle.

But Will Graham, in his short time, knowing him, had inspired such visceral emotion and animal-like urges in the Alpha, that it took every fiber of his self-control not to tear him to shreds whenever he looked at him with that tired and scattered sea foam gaze. 

He made Hannibal want to peel his skin back, neatly remove his organs and cook them with every ounce of skill he had, and devour him. He wanted to pick up his brain and feel the bountiful weight of it in his bare hands.

Violence had always been easy for Hannibal, easy to comprehend and act out; The feelings Will brought out of him were anything but _easy_ . He made Hannibal want to lock him in his home, chain him to his bed and feed him anything and everything he craved. He wanted to torment him, pull and push at his brain until he understood every hill and valley. To hold him, protect, and...to love and adore. Will was perfect, almost as if he were made just for him. He was skillfully crafted to his taste. He had known it over ten years ago when he first caught his gaze across the opera hall. Sullen and full of disdain. He had known it when he nosed along his wrist, quite _rudely_ , and was hit with his scent, ice falling from a mountain, melting into fresh river water. The scent of crisp winter air at night pulled at every single one of his senses, and he knew he’d never let him go. Hannibal had to let loose a deep breath at the memory as he turned on the long stretch of road that led to Wolf trap.

Will was spun _gold_ , fragile, and wrapped beautifully around Hannibal’s stiff heart. Frankly, Hannibal would do anything for Will at this rate. His obsession veered deeply into the madness that rested within Hannibals, and if Will were ever aware of its ugly existence, he would surely flee. That simply wouldn’t do. It would Hannibal would handle the situation with a surgeon’s precision. 

He would take care of this stalker and continue his long and slow dance for Will’s affections. Once he had them, He would carefully feast upon his broken mind, fragile spirit, and his stubborn soul. And sweet, lovely Will would allow it.

Will had a deep-seated need to be understood. He craved it like water but repeatedly buried it beneath the sand like a secret. His fear of appearing weak, _unstable_ turned him into a cold ball of paranoia and raw anxiety.

Hannibal understood him as if they were the same person, for who else could catch a gleam into the eyes of madness and find their home? Will’s madness was a fragile thing, hidden beneath a thick grey fog begging to bloom, to be tended to by gentle hands. Hannibal had tended to similar gardens with his therapy, but Will was different, his mind full of refracting mirrors that made tending to his garden exceptionally more difficult. 

His s _leeping_ tea eased his struggle. A mixture of opioids and brain softening herbs made Will’s mind malleable between his fingers. His madness bloomed beautifully alongside the fire of illness that burned brightly behind his skull. 

Hannibal bit his lip in anticipation of the change that would finally overcome his sweet, cunning boy. He would watch on greedily as his mate climbed out of his chrysalis made of burning fire.

  
  


Unbeknownst to Will, he had placed various cameras around his properties after he alerted him to his potential stalker. Tony, powerful solar-powered things that gave him a sharp view of his Will. Surveillance to make sure that the stalker would not injure his Will. A one James Bordeaux, 35, a truly pathetic, sodden lump of flesh and poor decisions, had made camp 100 meters in the woods, directly in front of Will’s home.

James used a pair of high-powered binoculars to peep through Will’s expansive windows. Hannibal had broken into his small apartment once he discovered who he was. 

He went through his belongings and found him to be quite a filthy man. He went through his browser history and found Freddie Lounds’s repulsive and _putrid_ website bookmarked.

He had saved every slanderous article that featured Will and saved every photo of him he could find. He must have stared at his Omega for hours on end: his messy dark curls, the deep, dark circles beneath his limpid blue eyes. Hannibal wondered if he should cut out the stalker’s eyes while he was still alive or simply press the soft organs with his thumbs until they burst. He would certainly deserve it for laying his filthy gaze where it did not belong. On something, he did not rightfully deserve.

  
  


By the time Hannibal arrived at the long stretch of road that led to Will’s home, the rain clouds had been left behind, and the moon gleamed a waxy crescent in the sky. Hannibal hadn’t originally planned to hunt tonight, but there was a suspicious addition to James’s bag that he spotted through the cameras. Rope, a bottle of an indistinguishable liquid, and rags. He wasn’t just going to watch today. No, today, he would take matters into his own hands, it appeared.

Hannibal took off his suit coat and unbuttoned his vest after he parked behind a thick cluster of trees. He carefully took off his watch and pulled out his bag of necessities. His plastic suit was folded neatly within, along with twine and thin steel rope. He pulled out a long black blade, carefully wrapped in white cloth and a pair of binoculars. The night was nippy, and he had quite a bit of time to kill before he could descend upon the blond man, so he shrugged on a dark hoodie. The cold did not bother him; he was born in Lithuania’s winter snows and had hunted beasts of all kinds and sizes on the icy landscape. 

Hannibal’s blood was on fire, the way it was every time he hunted like this, but there was something new in the air. Something strange and unearthly lingered in the dark wind. He tensed at the sudden clicking of wild animals in the night, his hair standing on edge. It made him tread carefully through the grass once he left the car with his tools. It made him pause as the caw of a crow called out above him and reverberated through his bones. He narrowed his eyes at the faint impressions of footprints in the undergrowth, appearing right before his very eyes. Something unearthly was here, he realized as his blood rushed with no discernable reason. His intuition alerted him to danger that he was not aware of, but he did not flee. Even as the surrounding darkness grew in-depth and caressed its fingers around his neck, he did not run. If something were to happen tonight, he would be there to witness it all. 

Hannibal clung to the shadows as he watched his target settle into a small plastic tent, waiting. Hannibal could see Will wander around his home like a lost phantom, his dogs following him like a beacon of light in a dark, foggy sea. They ambled and carefully, stumbling tiredly every once in a while, and Hannibal felt a sharp stab of irritation as he realized they were drugged.

He personally felt little for the dogs, but he knew how important they were, their stabilizing force in Will’s life. Hannibal let out an annoyed huff at the thought of a future hospital visit for the pups. But it wouldn’t be a total loss, Hannibal thought to himself. He vividly remembered the soft, flushed color of distress painted brashly on Will’s cheeks, his borderline catatonic state, and the _heady_ and _intoxicating_ feeling of Will relinquishing control, allowing Hannibal to lead him, care for him, and his dogs. Hannibal had sat long hours, reminiscing the weight of Will’s trembling, cold and clammy hand in his own, after he instinctively reached out to him for comfort. His Alpha. 

Hannibal was entirely sure that Will didn’t remember that moment due to his overbearing distress, but Hannibal was quite content to keep their intimate moment a secret.

  
  


Hannibal prowled between the thick, damp trees silently, his footing sure against damp, dead leaves as he drifted closer to the makeshift camp. 

James Bordeaux was the second son of his immigrant family, French nationals that came to the united states for opportunities in the 50s. He was the younger and less successful twin brother to two beta parents. Hannibal discovered that he was involved in a small-time motorcycle gang and was dreadfully boring beyond that. Hannibal did not feel threatened by this sad excuse of an alpha and was content to ignore him if not for the Omega involved. He would not allow him to pilfer Will from right under his nose. 

Hannibal sunk beneath a large fir tree, the heavy, stiff leaves giving him more than enough cover of darkness. If anyone were to look, they would only see twisting, black shadows.

Time passed slowly. The crescent moon rose higher and higher into the sky. Stars sparkled endlessly over the horizon. The deep sounds of the night creatures around him made Hannibal fall into a meditative state, his arms hanging over his knees and his back curled forward. Will turned off all the lights in his home; a single orange lantern remained lit on his porch.

Hannibal stared at the tiny tent thirty meters away with the relaxed gaze of a predatory cat. He had squatted in knee-high snow in the biting Lithuania winters for extended hours in his youth, waiting for his next victim. This was child’s play.

Time was immeasurable as he sat beneath the weight of his thoughts and instincts. A handful of minutes turned into hours, and Hannibal waited. James exited his tent finally around 3 a.m. The moon was slightly beyond the midpoint of its journey across the oil slick heavens. Hannibal licked his teeth. James paced around the tent nervously. His eyes were bloodshot, but he had a fierce determination to see this through. The man was naturally shy by nature, awkward and, truthfully, a massive moron. Hannibal knew that if the Alpha had simply approached Will calmly and sanely, he might have netted him with minimal difficulty.

Murdering James was definitely the preferable alternative, in Hannibal’s opinion. 

James looked at his watch, likely checking to see if the sedatives were in effect yet. He poked his head back into the tent and retrieved the damp rags, rope, and a small bag. Hannibal could clearly smell the harsh chemicals of chloroform from where he sat. He stood slowly as the blond Alpha hurried to the house. Hannibal followed him at a leisurely pace, careful not to step on any twigs or cones, caution making his footsteps light and easy. A being of silence and dread, Hannibal licked his teeth slowly as he prowled sinuously in the dark behind the unaware man. James was a ball of anxiety; Hannibal could smell the familiar sharp scent of fear beneath the smell of burning rubber. His posture was one of false confidence, shoulders back and chest puffed out, but Hannibal could see the nervous sweat glistening at his neck, his throat swallowing dryly over and over while his gloved hands shook.

James wouldn’t harm Will no, he would subdue him and restrain him, then take him to a hidden location that he considered secured enough that Will couldn’t leave or be found, yet comfortable enough that the Omega would find it easy enough to warm up to him. To the property that sat abandoned on his family’s estate. Hannibal found every piece of land connected to the Alpha, incase he ever stole away with his Omega. Hannibal released a furious breath, a cloud of moisture escaping him as he gritted his teeth in a deep, boiling rage. James was Apollo; Will was his sun. Indeed, Hannibal felt compelled to melt the flesh off his face personally. 

Hannibal stood near the trees while James jimmied the lock open. He opened the door and tensed in the doorway. Hannibal furrowed his brow as James pulled out the chemically soaked rags far too soon. Will should have been sleeping in bed, not anywhere near his living room. 

James took a wary step back, his hands up in surrender as a sharp, inhuman howl pierced the night air. The growl raised the hairs on Hannibal’s arms, and his heart stuttered painfully. 

“No, no, no no no _no-_!” 

James’s voice trembled as he backed away, his skin pallid beneath the moonlight as he shakily stepped back onto the porch. Horror was painted into the lines of his face as he stared into the dark doorway. Hannibal found his feet moving forward unconsciously as if pulled by the rumbling growls that bled from the entrance. This was not a snarl of a dog; no, this was the blood-lusting voice of the dead. 

Hannibal got close enough to see into the darkness, and food ramrod straight. Bathed in darkness was Will Graham, body pulled into a deep, predatory crouch. His eyes were low, dark, half-open as his neck was looser, resting on his left shoulder. He strolled out of the house, one step after another. Perfectly spaced. Sleepwalking the same way he had in Hannibal’s home, unaware yet awake. Even steps around his home, under the sharp supervision of the Alpha. Gorgeous. Hannibal couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips. This Will was almost familiar as the waking one. This one was often more... honest.

  
  


Will growled roughly as his head fell forward, and Hannibal could not take his eyes off of him. The straining muscle beneath the pale flesh of his arms and his meaty thighs. No, Hannibal would rather pluck his eyes out of his head than look away from the beastial glory of Will Graham. 

“S-stop _look_ , I don’t mean to upset you. Look, we were made for each other, you’re my soul mate!” James explained frantically as Will came closer. Will breathed out heavily, his breath flaring around his pale face in the cold, dark night. Moonlight glistened on his dark brown curls while his eyes were dark beneath the heavy fringe of his damp hair. Hannibal felt his hands twitch for his pencils, his eyes focusing and refocusing at the image of Will, raw and void of any thought. Only instincts lived and breathed through his blood. A sharp stab of arousal pierced through Hannibal’s stomach, his mouth watering as James dropped into a careful crouch, mirroring Will’s posture. This pulled a harsh snarl through the Omega’s clenched teeth.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you, Will. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but if you come with me, I’ll show you happiness that only an Alpha can give you. Don’t you want that, sweetheart? A nice _bond_ ?” The Alpha cooed, taking a step forward, a placating palm up in front of him. Hannibal watched as Will tilted to the side as if listening before he suddenly shifted and _sprung_ . He lunged at the Alpha, and they both landed on the fresh coating of snow, their limbs jarring at the impact. Will struck the Alpha with a jab to the windpipe, resulting in the Alpha choking painfully, gasping loudly for air. They both scrambled for balance, fingers digging into frozen dirt, untainted white snow, and dry grass. Will was clawing his nails into the alpha's flesh, pulling at his cheeks and shoulder, drawing blood with every pull. James began _screaming,_ a broken, panicked sound that made Hannibal’s stomach warmed with pride as they struggled in the snow. 

He pushed the rag deep into Will’s nostrils, but the poor fool didn’t know that Hannibal had been feeding his dear Will opioids ten times stronger than whatever flimsy, handmade sedative he had engineered. Will’s frenzied actions slowed as his form slumped slightly. James panted harshly, clouds of hot hair escaping him with every wet breath. 

“Fucking hell! Fucking piece of _shit_!” James moaned out bitterly as he pushed Will over as he tried to get back to his feet. Dirt and snow covered his back while his face bled heavily. He shot an ugly sneer at Will’s limp body on the ground. Hannibal was certain he wanted to kick the prone man. Hannibal wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t crack his head against the ground if he did. 

“This could have been so fucking _easy_ if you just fucking slept like a regular person!” He hissed furiously as he untangled the rope he had shoved in his pocket. “ _God_ , my face.” He moaned in pain.

Hannibal calmly watched the proceedings from the dark break of trees, hidden beneath the drooping leaves. It was jarring to see his sweet, dear Will laying there on the ground with blood-covered fingertips and glossy eyes. He could feel something wild, something inhuman stretching and pushing against his rib cage at the sight of the Omega so vulnerable and limp beneath an enraged alpha. Hannibal truly felt like he would lose his mind if he did not move and intervene, but he knew his Will. His resilient, unbreaking boy.

James had bent over to reach for Will’s hands when Will launched himself at James’s shins with a guttural snarl. A yelp left the taller man, which morphed into a groan of pain as Will climbed up his long body. He sat firmly onto the Alphas stomach, putting all of his weight on the struggling man before pulling back tightly closed fists and letting them fly. The first punch resulted in a sharp crack that echoed in the clearing. Everything was silent for a heartbeat before the Alpha beneath him began shouting angrily, his voice nearly incomprehensible through his broken nose. James bucked beneath the seated Omega and struck him, splitting open Will’s lip with a wicked punch. Hannibal forced his legs still as his blood crashed hotly against his veins in a molten rage.

The Alpha’s attacks didn’t dissuade Will as he pumped out a flurry of alternating strikes onto the Alpha’s face, heavy punches, sharp slaps, and dragging his clawed fingers through the Alpha’s cheeks. The raw sounds of violence were deafening in the clearing. Bone cracking bone, skin shredding and ripping beneath dull nails. 

Will didn’t seem to feel the pain of his split lip, nor the clawing hands reaching weakly for his neck. Will was a study of savagery as he gripped the Alphas bleeding head up and slammed it back into the ground. Over and over until the man stopped screaming out in agonizing pain, stopped kicking, and until the very moment that he gave his last wet breath. Will panted heavily over the dead Alpha’s body; his skin flushed scarlet as sweat dripped off of his pasty skin. He was positively beautiful, trembling with violence. 

  
  


Will tore the clothing that covered James’s chest until he reached the still-warm flesh covering his heart. Then, he dug his claws sharply into the meat, peeling back and pulling layers and layers of epidermis until he reached muscles. Will dug and dug, past muscles, beneath his ribs and pulled the bone apart until he could reach his heart. It was with a victorious snarl that rippled through his chest as he tore out the Alphas un-beating heart and tore out a heaping mouthful. Hannibal watched, stunned as Will are the heart whole before swallowing with a relaxed, resting face. Hannibal felt like the Omega had taken a bite out of his own heart as he stared on, mesmerized. 

Will Graham was a _vision_. Surrounded in red snow beneath the pale moon, glowing as a pleased groan escaped his throat. He tilted his head back, baring his neck openly as his half-mast eyes turned to look at Hannibal.

Hannibal found himself desperately, miserably aroused. He took mental photographs of the bloody scene and felt his heart thump irregularly against his rib cage. He wanted this. He needed this. If he weren’t already so confident that Will was already his, he would have locked him in his basement for all time. His eyes fell on the cracked knuckles of his marvelous boy, the blood seeping through the snow and into the pale grass and the fists of the dead Alpha. The blood and flesh under Will’s cracked nails. DNA would be everywhere, but Hannibal had his visions boy covered. He would take care of him, as was his job as his soon to be mate. He would whatever he could for his Omega. He would have to work hard to clean up this scene, but he’s sure his mate will appreciate it later. 

He took slow, measured steps towards the growing pool of blood beneath James’s dead body. Will only tilted his head toward him. Hannibal gave him a wide smile as he approached him.

“What will you do with your prize?” He crooned as he stood over him. Will blinked at him slowly, eyes shimmering with gloss as faint recognition triggered deep inside his slumbering mind. Will stood slowly, goose flesh forming on his bare arms and legs as a cold wind blew across the yard. His joints popped loudly across the yard, screaming at the stiff movement in the cold air, unprotected.

“Release my fears.” Will garbled. “Walk the path of illumination. Consume my intuition.” The words rushed out of his mouth as if his brain was trying to force them all out simultaneously. Will’s hands dripped in sticky blood and covered his wrists in splatters. Hannibal wanted to lick it all away. Will looked at the body on the ground for a moment before walking around the body and yanking James’s limp body up by the tight grip of his hair. Will stood in quiet contemplation before lifting his arm high and higher still till he pointed to the moon in the sky. 

“ _Towers_.” He mumbled past bloodied lips, his sleeping lips swallowing the syllables until they were almost incomprehensible. Luckily for him, Hannibal was much too aware and too in tune with Will to not understand. Towers and the moon. 

It seemed that Will enjoyed his gift after all. 

A wide, dark grin overtook him as he stepped behind Will, who was still frozen in his pose. Hannibal gently clasped the pointing finger in his warmer hands and lowered his head to Will’s neck. His nose poked at the tiny scent glands behind his ears. Hannibal wrapped his arm around Will’s chest and took in a deep inhale of his scent. Fresh, clean, and flawless.

Hannibal breathed hotly against the pale flesh and reveled in the shiver that followed. He purred gently into the cold skin wrapped a hand tightly around Will’s lovely neck. He opened his mouth wide and placed his teeth where he would bite into the gland if he were to bond him and let out an unrestrained groan at the taste on his tongue, of sweat and the sharp tang of a biting winter breeze. The frosty taste alone was enough to make Hannibal’s vision go white with desire.

“Perfectly done, my handsome Will.” He whispered against the wet flesh before licking the scent gland teasingly, filing the flavor away in his mind to be thoroughly deconstructed later.

Will’s body nearly collapsed into his arms as he dropped his chin to his chest, giving Hannibal more room to scent him. The touch starved Omega gave him a needy, pitiful whine that had Hannibal holding on too tightly. No, he wouldn’t bond Will like this. Not only did will deserve so much better, but Hannibal also wanted Will to be an active, enthusiastic participant. He removed his teeth and ignored the snarl Will threw at him.

Hannibal felt the heavyweight of the sacrificial blade in his pocket and smiled. 

“The night is young, my dear, let us make your grand debut one the people will remember.” He whispered into Will’s ear as he pulled out the blade and pressed it into his beloved’s cold, bloody hands. 

  
  
  


***

Snow fell like ash over Wolf trap by the time Hannibal returned. It was only 8 a.m, an hour after he left Will unconscious in his bed. He had cleaned the man in question and swapped his bloodied clothing as thoroughly as possible. 

Hannibal cleaned and picked the dead Alphas flesh from beneath his omegas torn fingertips and rinsed the blood from his hands and mouth. Will was a loose, malleable thing in his arms as he removed damning evidence from his body. Hannibal would not soon forget the feeling of Will’s nearly steaming body clutching him in his sleep.

He gathered his doctor bag and a large parchment bag full of groceries before stepping out of his car. Hannibal’s eyes roved over the front yard; any traces of the gory scene from this morning were shoveled and cut away. Not a hint of the events of the night before remained.

He walked to the front porch slowly before donning on a polite yet friendly mask. Hannibal’s hand hovered over the thin wood for a moment before allowing it to fall. 

The door swiftly opened after Hannibal knocked a singular time. He was forced to drop the bags he carried as Will stumbled over his own feet and began falling over the doorway. Hannibal lunged to catch him, both arms coming around the smaller man’s shaking body to catch him. His shirt was soaked and clinging to his over warm skin.

“Will? Will, what’s the matter?” Hannibal asked, concern coloring his words as he walked further into the man’s home. Will trembled like a leaf in the wind against him.

Will’s dogs tiredly walked around, whining as they sniffed around their master, sensing his distress. Hannibal pushed a hand against Will’s forehead and pushed back his ever-growing fringe of dark curls to look at his face. He was hot to the touch, nearly burning Hannibal’s hand. Will was flushed, his skin coated in sweat. His pupils were enlarged, his blue eyes shiny with unshed tears and full of panic. He was suffering from shock.

Hannibal’s eyes roved over his face, the slight scratch marks over his cheeks, his swollen and bruised upper lip that was turning a _beautiful_ plum color. He wanted to lick it to see how the warm, plump flesh would taste beneath his tongue. 

Hannibal could feel Will’s shaky hands reach up to clutch at his wool overcoat. He could hear Will’s throat working, trying to swallow with fail. His breath came out frantically, inhaling desperately against him. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

“Will?”

“I-I, I think I did s-something _horrible_ last night, Hannibal.” He moaned out as shivers wracked up and down his body. He stared up at Hannibal, searching for solace in the Alpha’s eyes. Hannibal could smell the sharp scent of his fear and panic this close to him.

Internally, Hannibal ate up the nonverbal beg for help in the Omega’s eyes. He showed none of his pleasure as he tightened his grip around the omegas waist.

“ _Come_ , tell me what you think you did.” 

He tried to lead him, to allow Will the dignity of walking on his own two feet, but he refused to release the lapels of Hannibal’s coat, not allowing him to take even a step back. Hannibal bit back a smile. Instinct was a powerful thing. Will’s hindbrain was probably pushing him to move closer, into the arms of a friendly alpha; safety. The dogs gave them space as Will’s knees almost gave out and made them both stumble.

He nearly dragged Will to the soft brown couch and sat before him, opening his arms invitingly. Will gave him a hesitant, confused and apprehensive look, but Hannibal only smiled warmly at him in return.

“You are going into shock. Allow me to ease you through the process by grounding you. May I?” He opened his arms wider, spreading his legs.

He knew he was taking a major risk here, fully aware that if Will panicked and reacted negatively to this, Hannibal would have to take several steps back in order to regain his affections. Months of works were undone because of his impatience. He didn’t allow his slight anxiety to show through his warm smile. He remained a beacon of confidence and warmth.

Will took a step back, his eyes shifting over the Alpha’s face uneasily. Hannibal remained smiling. Will rolled the heel of his foot back and forth before grasping shakily at Hannibal’s hands. He unsteadily climbed into Hannibal’s lap, knobby knees shaking around Hannibal’s muscular thighs as he wrapped his arms loosely around Hannibal’s neck. Will put his head into Hannibal’s neck and took in a deep lungful of his scent. 

Hannibal blinked, floored at the sudden weight that collapsed in his arms. He felt as if the sun had entered the room, warming him and the Omega sitting on his lap while nearly blinding him. Hannibal was almost dizzy with the rush of endorphins the physical constant was giving him. 

He brought his arms around Will’s back, clutching almost too tightly as his wide hand slowly caressed the distressed man’s sweaty back. 

“That’s it, breathe with me, In, then out. Just like that, _Will_.” He murmured into Will’s ears, nosing the skin slightly before pulling back. He coached Will calmly through his panicked breathing, pumping out as many relaxing pheromones as he could. Hannibal felt Will incrementally fall limp against him as he whispered in his ear. Hannibal felt more content sitting on this ugly, dog hair covered couch than he ever had in his own home. He expelled his scent around him and Will like a warm bubble of warmth and spices, pleased notes of citrus and cinnamon tinging the air, signaling Hannibal’s happiness as bright as day 

  
  
  


“This is weird.” Will breathed into Hannibal’s neck, taking in deep, greedy pulls of his scent as he nosed around Hannibal’s scent gland. Hannibal bit his lip at the light sensation. “ _Really_ weird.” Will didn’t sound all that bothered, in his opinion. A pleased, knowing smile flickered along Hannibal’s face.

“Only if you allow yourself to feel so,” Hannibal replied, his fingertips gliding over the protruding bones on the younger man’s spine. He was so light on Hannibal’s lap, if not for the display of brutal savagery from the night before, he would be the very image of fragility. 

Will let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t think it works like that.” 

“Says whom? Who’s standard are you trying to live by?”

“Societies? I’m pretty sure there would be some upturned noses if word got around that I was making a habit of sitting in my psychiatrist’s lap while scenting him.” He mumbled into Hannibal’s sensitive throat, forcing a shiver from the Alpha. He tightened his arms around him. 

  
  


“To be fair, I’m not officially your psychiatrist, and you aren’t officially my patient.” 

“Hm still not a good look,” Will grumbled as he made no effort to move. Au contraire, he nuzzled even closer to Hannibal, his hot, damp breath landing heavily on Hannibal’s sensitive flesh. Hannibal found himself exercising a massive amount of willpower and self-control to not simply press his growing desire against the warm body above him. He took a deep breath. 

  
  


“What happened last night, Will?”

Wills loose form tensed instantly in his arms, and Hannibal quickly mourned the loss of relaxed Omega in his arms. 

“I don’t _know_.” He gritted, frustration and fear causing his hands to tremble where they gripped him. “I went to bed normally and woke up feeling like an 18 wheeler hit me. I looked at my hands and saw these” Will leaned back, sitting fully on Hannibal’s legs to show him his cracked and bleeding knuckles. Hannibal hissed in sympathy as some of them began bleeding freely at Will’s sharp movements. Hannibal gently grabbed the freezing digits. The Omega gave him a watery smile. 

“I think I hurt someone. And I have _no_ memory of it whatsoever.” A lightly crazed giggle escaped Will’s clenched teeth as he balled his hands into fists. They bled over Hannibal’s hands like vermillion paint, slightly staining his slacks.

“Shh, let me retrieve my doctor’s bag and tend to these,” Hannibal said as he held Will’s bruised hands almost reverently, remembering the way they pounded into James’s skull ruthlessly and unapologetically. 

  
  


“I was coming to check if you were still feeling nauseous from your expired milk, but I’m glad I brought everything.” He explained as he loosened his posture, signaling to Will non-verbally that he wished to rise. Will was silent for a moment, head hanging low before he stood, pressing a hand into Hannibal’s chest as he tried to rise. 

“Just don’t... don’t move, I’ll get it.” He groused as he reluctantly slid off of Hannibal’s neatly pressed slacks. Hannibal raised a single brow but said nothing. Will easily ignored him and stumbled awkwardly to the bags Hannibal had dropped. 

“Groceries?” He asked when he peered into the brown paper bag.

“In case you hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday, I wished to make you something myself,” Hannibal said shamelessly. Will stared at him in silence before walking towards him with an incredulous expression. Hannibal simply smiled back politely, feeling as if he were on top of the world with Will’s faint scent sticking to his clothing.

Will snorted, then winced sharply as his lip throbbed in pain at the motion.

“You may be the strangest alpha I have ever met,” Will muttered as he brought the bags to Hannibal. Hannibal opened his doctor’s bag as Will stood off to the side awkwardly. He was flushed and embarrassed by their embrace earlier. Hannibal decided not to say anything when Will sat beside him this time. He pulled out gauze and several tiny bottles of antiseptics and placed them on the coffee table nearby. He moved methodically, taking Will’s brightly bruised hands into his own, and dabbed them with alcohol. Will hissed out a sharp breath in pain but did not squirm. 

  
  


“Do you have any memory of anything that happened during the night? Random flashes?” Hannibal asked.

“No, not even a hint. I think my new medication hit me harder than I thought it would. I sleepwalk regularly, but... these are defensive wounds, Hannibal. I was in an altercation.” Will sighed as he kept his eyes on his hands. “How did I even manage to meet someone in the middle of the night? I live in the middle of nowhere, and it’s not like I could have gone into town without driving.” 

“I understand your fears, but I truly doubt you truly did anything horrid,” Hannibal said as he finished up the dressing on Will’s knuckles and began cleaning the smaller wounds on his arms. 

“You’ve slept walked in my home plenty of times, and perhaps the most unforgivable thing you’ve done was delve into my fridge for dessert leftovers and left the door open.” Hannibal chuckled warmly at the pink that bloomed on Will’s face. 

“Oh _God_ , I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m so sorry about your dessert.” Will said, mortified.

“I decided to take it as a compliment. My dessert inhabiting your subconscious can only mean good things.” Hannibal said. “The point that I’m trying to get across is that I truly doubt you recklessly and randomly attacked someone during your episode of somnambulism. If anything, you may have been trying to protect yourself.” Will frowned as his thoughts clattered around in his mind like tiny marbles.

“Omegan instinct is a powerful thing,” Hannibal began as he just slightly caressed his thumbs near the angry scarlet flesh on Will’s fingers.

“Did you know centuries ago, it was documented that omegas were the primary group of people to be sent out to battle?”

Will’s brows rose sharply over his eyes, the chaos in his mind coming to a halt at new information.

“ _Really_? I’ve never heard of anything like that.” He admitted. Hannibal smiled. 

“That is no accident. The west has taken to obfuscating this knowledge in the recent century, for fear of disrupting the new social hierarchy.” 

“Alphas on top, Omegas grueling in the dirt.” Will sighed out. A small, pleased smile crawled onto Hannibal’s lips.

“Just so. As a means to control and subjugate, it was taught that Omegas were weak and delicate creatures only created to breed and further bloodlines. But what would survival and instinct push an omega to do, 500 years ago, when their Alpha was away hunting, and their nest was disturbed by an enemy alpha?” Hannibal met Will’s eyes. Understanding filtered through his eyes as the mid-morning light shone through the frosted windows. Will was thinking about what he would have done were he in that position.

“Fight. They would have to in order for their offspring to survive.,” Will breathed out. Hannibal’s eyes crinkled with his smile. 

“Exactly. I promise you, dear Will, an omega would require a _formidable_ amount of strength to fend off an Alpha, let alone defeat them and take their hearts as their prize.” Will huffed out a loud laugh, eyes full of disbelief. 

“So you’re telling me _not only_ were omega’s battle-hardened beasts who could tear an alpha to shreds, but they also partook in _cannibalism_.” Will gave him a skeptical look. 

“It was ritualistic cannibalism. The belief back then was if an omega killed an alpha and ate their heart, the strength of the Alpha would be transferred to the Omega. So you may understand why after the turn of the early century, Alphas wanted to quietly erase that bit of history.” Will’s face was a study of astonishment. Eyes wide and tinged red around the lids. Bruised and swollen lips slightly opened in shock. He wanted to kiss them, inflict the experience of pleasure and stinging pain upon the dark-haired man. He only looked at Will with a small genuine smile and wrapped gauze neatly and snugly around his hands.

“ _Wow_. Y-Yeah, I get it. I’d eat a few alpha’s hearts if that meant I didn’t have to deal with their smug holier than thou attitude.” 

Hannibal bit back a sharp grin. 

“Who knows, it’s never too late for you, Will.” 

Will only gave him a shaky half-smile in response.

Hannibal began treating the wounds on Will’s face carefully. A few scratches and a split lip seemed to be the extent of the damage on his face. A slight gash on his jaw, where one of the dead Alpha’s fingernails cut the flesh open. Hannibal cleansed it with a slightly chuffed expression. His omegas battle scars would heal very nicely.

“How d’you manage to unearth this forbidden knowledge?” Will asked as Hannibal gripped his head firmly and turned it. He was so close that Hannibal could see his fine wrinkles forming near his brow and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Flecks of silver drifting in seafoam green eyes. Small expressions slipped and slid around Will’s flushed skin. The closeness was making him uncomfortable. Hannibal pulled back slightly to accommodate him. 

“Well, I traveled a lot in my youth before I settled in Baltimore. I’ve tasted the sweet, fresh dates in Baghdad before neo-imperialism gave the beautiful country a kiss of death. I’ve spent hot, humid summers in Japan, where I learned that majority of the samurai were, in fact, omegas. In some of the older art pieces in Greece, you’ll find that the figures of Greek gods were modeled after omegan women and men.” Hannibal stated as he released Will’s jaw. He could see Will’s adam’s apple work as he swallowed nervously. Hannibal tilted his head with a secretive smile.

“Very interesting. You’ve given me something to study further, Dr.Lecter.” Will said as he fixed his gaze back to his wrapped hands. 

“Hannibal, please.”

“Right. _Hannibal_.” 

The Alpha gave Will a pleased smile before shifting closer, close enough to see the back of Will’s throat if he opened up. He cleaned the wound with gentle fingers but could feel the kind of tension that only pain brought in Will’s limbs beneath him.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my classes. What to tell people when they _see_ me.” Will sighed as Hannibal very carefully added salve to the cut on his lip. A deep flush had settled on the one’s cheeks the second Hannibal began touching his face. As Hannibal watched Will’s tongue slide out slightly to moisten his bottom lip, he found himself void of any developed thoughts. 

“You can choose to explain to them what you’ve explained to me, but I warn that people may...” He trailed off as realization filled Will’s eyes, followed swiftly by bitter self-loathing. 

“Find me unstable? An unknown quantity?” Will offered with tight eyes and a bitter smile.

“People fear the unknown and the mysterious. They avoid it because it often brings danger and pain.” Hannibal said.

“But _not_ you. You aren’t afraid of mystery and the unknown.” Will said, his blue eyes a pale, foamy green in the morning light. They were sharp yet so very _far_ away as his empathy bled over Hannibal. Hannibal bit his lip lightly as Will’s eyes roved over him, unseeing yet piercing. 

“You are someone who revels and basks in it. You live comfortably in the dark, shrouded by shadows and danger.” Will’s eyes were unblinking as he fell further into his empathy. 

“Yes.” Hannibal agreed, licking his teeth with a sharp grin. Oh, his dear. 

Will tilted his head to the side curiously, his eyes vacant. This was not the usual Will, no this was something entirely _other_. Hannibal moved closer, intrigued.

“You move freely where normal men cannot fathom. _You_ are something _more_ , not entirely human. In search of something. Something that was taken. Something that will be replaced soon. A cabinet in your mind will be _filled_ .” Will breathed out. Hannibal’s eye twitched slightly before moving back completely and standing up with a small pleased smile. _Yes_.

  
  


“Brunch?” He asked as he walked toward the kitchen to wash his hands of blood and harsh chemicals. 

  
  


Will was silent for a moment, but Hannibal watched him closely, watched his eyes fill with more and more awareness before panic and confusion saturated his face and shoulders. He held himself tightly. 

  
  


“I-I, _what_?” Will’s head swiveled to Hannibal sharply before standing unsteadily. 

“What just _happened_ to me?” Will demanded shakily. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Hannibal admitted. He had his suspicions that Will’s illness was transforming his empathy, soldering it into the little grooves in his brain. Making it activate even when he wasn’t consciously making an effort to. 

“You may simply be tired, you’ve had a difficult morning and night, after all. Have a seat, and ill make you something to eat.” Hannibal suggested as he gave the Omega a warm smile and retrieved the groceries that were slumped beside the couch. Will watched him with confused, strained eyes. Hannibal could smell the fresh layer of sweat on his skin. The scent of salt, pheromones, and the bitter smell of medication. 

Will slowly made it to the counter and took a seat on the barstool as he watched Hannibal move swiftly around the kitchen. 

He ran his hands over his face in distress. He inhaled sharply.

“Just...tell me I’m _not_ losing my mind,” Will whispered out brokenly as he hid his face into his folded arms. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

Hannibal paused, something sharp and calculating sliding behind his dark eyes. 

“You’re not crazy, Will. You’re perfectly sane. The _job_ is simply taking its toll” He lied easily.

Will looked up from his arms and gave Hannibal a rueful look. “Now _Hannibal_ honestly is a virtue.” 

Hannibal innocently raised his eyebrows. “Are you calling me _unvirtuous_ Will?” 

Will snorted, wincing in pain at the motion. He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit into the flesh of his thumb—a nervous tic. 

“Not any more unvirtuous than I.” He grumbled. Hannibal smirked.

“You would be surprised.”

A comfortable silence descended over them. Hannibal peeled the thin flesh of the russet potatoes slowly. Coffee dripped rhythmically in the pot behind him, the warm scent on his personal Vienna roast filled the quiet kitchen. Will seemed tired, likely due to the lack of proper sleep. His chin rested upon his palm as he watched Hannibal cook through his slitted lids. Hannibal decided not to mention Will’s visibly shaking arms.

Hannibal placed a plate that held seared bratwurst, two eggs cooked sunny side up, and hash browns in front of Will with a smile.

“Coffee?” 

“Yes, _God_ , please.”

He poured him a cup before wiping his hands on the strip of linen he brought along. He watched Will cut into the thick sausage and take a bite. He watched Will’s eyes flutter in pleasure as he savored the taste of an attractive, fit woman he might have greeted kindly at the pharmacy. Too bad that she rushed into Hannibal and sneered at him instead of _apologizing_. Very unfortunate. 

It wasn’t until Will’s plate had become half empty that the sounds of metal sliding on ceramic paused. Hannibal was turned away; his shirt sleeves pulled up to his elbows as he washed the dishes. Hannibal knew Will felt strange. Awkward. Unaccustomed to being cared for this consistently. He wore the vulnerability he felt like a cloak. The silence in the kitchen was loaded with unsaid words. Hannibal continued to scrub his pan. 

“I...wanted to _thank_ you. For everything.” Will said finally. It was possibly the most awkward delivery of gratitude Hannibal had ever heard. He stopped washing for a moment before dying his hands and turning around. Will was staring at his plate with the strangest expression. Affection was warring with disapproval in his eyes as he expertly avoided Hannibals. 

“There’s no need to thank me. It has always been my pleasure to be there for you, Will.”

“Why _is_ that? You gain _nothing_ from coddling me like a child, so why?” Will asked sharply, looking up and right at Hannibal. A storm was brewing behind his dark eyes. Fear and anxiety rolled like dark clouds in his gaze, but the tiniest, almost negligible amount of what looked like hope bled through the clouds. Hannibal tilted his head to the side. After the sleepless night he endured and the slowly building tension, he decided to surrender to the impulse for the first time in a long time.

“Well, that’s simply because I care for you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know in the comments if there is anything that can be improved, or any requests and I may incorporate them if possible ;)
> 
> I wish you all well.


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